The Avatar's Love
by RainAndRoses
Summary: (3 years post-series) After a terrible fight with Katara, Aang flies off and doesn't return... for 5 years. At last, driven by love, regret, and a message from a mysterious stranger, Katara sets out on a journey to save him that will take her to the Spirit World and back. Meanwhile, Azula has escaped prison, bent on revenge. KATAANG! (w/some Zutara). Mild violence, language, & sex.
1. Prologue

_"The Avatar's Love"... Yeah, I've never been good at titles._

**A (not at all) Brief Note from the Author: **_So, four things before you begin:_

1. YOU MAY WANT TO START AT CHAPTER 5 IF YOU AREN'T YET SURE YOU WANT TO READ THE WHOLE STORY... _b__ecause this is quite a complex monster of a story. It's gotten much larger than I ever imagined it would be when I started - to the point where I forget that it's just a fanfic sometimes. So, if you are an impatient reader like me, then I might recommend skipping ahead to Ch. 5, "Katara, Alone" just to see if you'll get into it or not. That's where the plot and stuff really starts; everything before that is just build-up... Though the buildup IS there for a reason, so if you do get into the story, I hope you'll go back and start from the beginning._ ^_^

2. CAUTION SHIPPERS: I GOT SOME ZUTARA IN MY KATAANG._ Yeah, I've never gotten into the "shipping wars" thing (it frightens me), but Aang & Katara fill my heart with happiness. And so does Zuko. Therefore, this story is about Aang & Katara... & Zuko. If Kataang is not your thing, or you get pissed at even the smallest hint of Zutara, then be warned: this story is stuffed full of sweet Kataang goodness, with lots of Zutara elements just to make things complicated.  
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3. THIS STORY STICKS VERY HARD TO THE ORIGINAL SERIES' CONTINUITY, BUT NOT SO MUCH TO THE COMICS OR KORRA_. I'm pretty much a canon loyalist, and try my hardest to keep the characters acting like themselves and not contradict anything considered canon. However, I started this story WAY before Legend of Korra debuted, and way before "The Promise" and "The Search" too. And since this story got so elaborate, it's pretty much impossible for me to change certain details that may not totally fit with later canon. Mostly there are 3 things: 1. One character (so far) whose role in this story contradicts a certain detail in Korra (you'll know it when you get there), 2. A couple of character backstories and/or post-war stories that don't match up with some events in the comics, and 3. Some of the rules about how the Spirit World works that are slightly off from what's been shown in Korra Book 2 (and "The Search" as well). Personally, I don't think any of these discrepancies are a HUGE deal, but I just wanted to warn you, dear reader, in case that sort of thing bothers you. _:)

_4. _YOU WILL NOT BE LEFT HANGING... NOT FOREVER, AT LEAST. _Although I ought to be focusing on writing stuff I could ACTUALLY publish, this story is going to haunt me until I finish it. So, never fear, Dear Readers: it WILL be finished eventually. I give you my solemn Avatar Promise.  
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**A (much) Briefer Disclaimer: **_Much to my ongoing dismay, I find I don't own anything at all related to "Avatar: the Last Airbender," except for the collection of DVDs on my shelf. Definitely not making any profit from this... unless you count happiness as a profit._

_OK, enough of that nonsense! On with the story! Tally-ho__! _:D

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

_UMMI_

It was her eighteenth birthday today.

Her name was Ummi, and she was getting married.

Her parents had – oh, how would you say? – revolted. _It's too soon_, they said. _You only met him four months ago!_ According to them, it wasn't nearly enough time to be sure you really knew someone, that you were compatible enough to spend the rest of your lives together. But they just didn't understand. They didn't understand that Ummi and Kuruk had known from the very first moment. This had nothing to do with time, or compatibility, or practicality. This was Destiny – and it was a powerful thing.

Perhaps her father merely felt a little uneasy about the fact that his baby girl was about to marry the Avatar. Her parents were so terribly _ordinary_. It must have been surreal for them. They had probably imagined their entire lives that she would find some nice, common fisherman of the Southern Water Tribe, her home tribe; marry him after a customary year-long engagement; have about five children (at least one boy); and grow old as a normal, unadventurous, unremarkable, traditional Water Tribe woman.

They didn't understand her, either. She had never wanted to be normal. She wanted to be remembered, in some way. She wanted to _be _someone.

Kuruk, on the other hand…

No matter what her parents said, Ummi understood him perfectly. The_ Avatar_, the most powerful bender in the world, the keeper of balance, the great bridge between the physical and spiritual realms. But he was so_ lazy_. So different from herself, the fun-loving Waterbender probably would have been absolutely content with a life of total mediocrity. Of course, being the Avatar, that would never happen for him. Nevertheless, he had done his best to be the most normal and unremarkable Avatar anyone had ever imagined. Ummi held a firm conviction that, had he lived during a time of war or disaster, he might have been a legendary hero, a figure of surpassing strength, courage, and persistence. He just needed proper motivation – but in those peaceful times, there was none. It was nice, of course, to live in a time of peace; but it did nothing for his natural idleness.

Before Ummi and Kuruk met at that celebration in the North Pole, Kuruk had already grown infamous for his creative ability to use his great Avatar powers in completely pointless ways. He was known for his fighting prowess (though he usually just fought _anyone_, whether or not it was a fair match), his conquests with the ladies, and his irrepressible ego.

Needless to say, Ummi had quickly broken him of most of that.

And – most surprisingly to himself – he hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, she knew he'd never been happier.

He still indulged in some of his Avatar-inspired exploits now and then, and Ummi generally liked joining him. And he'd even begun to teach her Waterbending, something she'd always dreamed of. It was a secret that both of them had to keep very carefully from their elders and peers. Her parents would have been scandalized and furious – they would have forbidden the marriage altogether.

But they didn't know. As it was, the best protest they could come up with was, _it's too soon_! _It's too soon_!

"Time is an illusion – and doubly so when you're in love," Kuruk's grandmother had told her once. All of Kuruk's family loved Ummi. They seemed to think she would finally balance out their wild young Avatar. If only her own family could have been so accepting.

_It doesn't matter_, Ummi told herself today. _All that matters is me and Kuruk_. Kuruk's sisters were currently in the process of preparing her for the wedding. She wore the traditional Northern Water Tribe-style wedding gown, with a fur cap and white flowers woven throughout her long, brown hair.

"You look so beautiful, Ummi," his sister Kaila smiled at her.

"I know we've said this before," his other sister, Korra, grinned. "But you are much too good for our brother."

"Yes, I know," Ummi laughed. "I remind him of it fairly often."

"Good," Kaila chuckled.

Suddenly, Ummi grimaced and clutched at her stomach.

"Are you all right?" Korra asked with mild alarm.

"Oh, it's nothing," Ummi smiled quickly at them. "My stomach is just a little off today. I woke up with this nauseous feeling this morning, and it just hasn't quite gone away."

"Maybe it's just nerves," Kaila suggested.

"Yes, you're probably right," Ummi nodded, though she had her doubts. She didn't feel nervous – she couldn't imagine a reason why she _would _be nervous. She'd been waiting for this, after all. It was Destiny. Nothing to be nervous about. But this feeling had been lurking inside her since early that morning, when she'd woken from a frightening nightmare that she could not recall. It clutched at her stomach: a sort of palpable, rotten dread. But she wouldn't tell Kaila and Korra that. They would worry for no reason, and this was a happy occasion. Ummi herself had done her best to simply ignore it. It was probably nothing, or nothing more than something bad she'd eaten the night before.

This was her wedding day, and nothing would spoil it. _Nothing_.

Kuruk and Ummi had decided early on that they would be married in the North Pole's spirit oasis, the most mystical and sacred location in all the Water Tribe realms. While the rest of the world around it was frozen with perpetual cold, the spirit oasis in the heart of the citadel was full of a constant, inexplicable warmth. On a small island in the middle of an icy pool, lush grass and flowers grew. And in the tiny pond on that island, forever circling one another, were the black and white Koi fish, Tui and La. The Moon and the Ocean spirits. Push and Pull. Yin and Yang. They had always been there, and would remain there until the end of time, always circling one another, maintaining the delicate balance that the world – and particularly the Water Tribes – relied upon.

The priest was awaiting them at the oasis, as were the members of Kuruk's family. Ummi's family, of course, had not come. But Ummi wouldn't let that bother her now – this day wasn't about them. It was about her and Kuruk, and the love they shared, pushing and pulling them constantly together. Like the Moon and Ocean spirits, they were two; but in essence, one. One force, one spirit, one energy. Forever.

Ummi approached the oasis from the eastern bridge, with Kaila and Korra carrying the hem of her gown. Kuruk approached from the western bridge, and his eyes shone brighter than the moon itself when they fell upon her. Ummi blushed slightly, beaming back at him.

He arrived at the edge of the pond before her, and stood waiting.

The crunching dread in her stomach squeezed. Ummi winced.

_So sorry, my dear,_ a dark voice – a wickedly soothing male voice – suddenly seemed to crawl through her mind. _Don't take this personally, but the Avatar must be punished for his idle ways. And you do have such a very lovely face_.

"Kuruk," Ummi gasped, halting for a moment, doubling over, and searching frantically around for the source of the voice. Her heart screamed; the painful dread seemed to push her insides outward. She remembered – the nightmare –

A dark cave full of endless tunnels – a dark creature lurking inside it – an enormous centipede, hundreds of talons clawing at the walls – and its face – nothing but a white mask –

Everyone was rushing to her side. The sky was bending over backward.

"Ummi!" Kuruk cried, clearly alarmed.

"Did you hear - ?" she began, but she was never able to complete the question. For the next moment, though she was unaware how it had happened, she was no longer standing on the bank of the spirit pond. She was in the water. She was being pulled – down, down, deeper. The light of the spirit oasis was rapidly fading away above her head to a pale circle. She caught a last glimpse of Kuruk, diving into the water after her. But in a moment, even that was gone. She was in darkness, surrounded by a living silence, gasping for breath.

"WELCOME!" said the dark voice, and out of the shadows there burst the hideous face of a screeching bluenose monkey, suspended on the body of a giant centipede. Ummi screamed with surprise and terror.

She couldn't have known the danger of such a natural reaction.

But Koh the Face-Stealer expected she wouldn't know. The moment her scream erupted, he chuckled with greedy delight, and set his claws upon her.

"Such a lovely face," he simpered hungrily. Ummi's scream faded before it had even begun.

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><p><em>TA MIN<em>

Ta Min could only watch the scene in horror.

She could see nothing from her vantage point in the boat, rocking anxiously in the unhappy waves, though she strained her aged eyes as hard as she could. The erupting volcano painted its bloody light over every surface of the visible world – beautiful, but utterly terrifying.

Just one glimpse. If she could just catch one sight of the small speck that was her husband… But all she could see was that bleary crimson wave, pouring down the mountain as if from a gaping wound. Washing everything away. All those houses that had stood on this island for generations – her own home, and those of all her friends and neighbors – all gone. Only an hour ago, she and Roku had been sleeping peacefully, just as they'd done every night for the past sixty years.

How could it have changed so suddenly?

And now she was in a boat, rocking, surrounded by the other horrified evacuees, and the only signs she could see of Roku were the cracks that burst from the stones, the rising waves of lava that curled back on currents of air, the bubbles of ice that formed like blisters in his various attempts to halt or somehow contain the destructive flow.

Somewhere underneath all her terror and anxiety, there lurked a subtle amazement, even admiration, that she was not consciously aware of. In sixty years, she'd never really gotten used to being married to the Avatar. Not entirely. She'd accepted by now that perhaps it was simply something one did not get used to.

She had known Roku nearly her whole life – since they were little more than children. Just young teenagers, full of energy, sure that they had the whole world figured out, never suspecting what a complicated place it really was. Roku had been in love with her nearly from the day they'd first met, at the fourteenth birthday celebration of himself and his ex-best friend Sozin (back when Sozin was only a fun-loving and carefree Fire Prince, not an avaricious and shameless Firelord). Ta Min had rather liked Roku as well, but he had been so young – so gangly and gawky – always stumbling over himself and tripping on his words. In a way, of course, it was endearing. But she had waited; waited, because one day she knew he would grow into himself. Then, she would see.

But the day came when the Fire Sages appeared in the palace, on Sozin and Roku's sixteenth birthday, bearing the news that would change everything. They had identified the new Avatar.

Ta Min still could recall that moment. The entire courtyard, even Prince Sozin, had bowed solemnly to the young Firebender Roku, who had looked as if he thought some horrible joke was being played on him. At the time, Ta Min also had felt rather incredulous. Roku? The Avatar? But he was so… ordinary.

During the long period that Roku had been gone, traveling the world, mastering the four elements, Ta Min had become more and more certain that he had forgotten about her completely. She had regretted how distant she'd been with him; at times she had even felt tempted to simply leave the Fire Nation and scour the world until she found him. But her sister Sen had kept her grounded.

_When love is real, it finds a way_, she used to tell her.

Only a few months after Roku's return, he and Ta Min had married at last. Her sister had known all along. The time was finally right, as it would not have been at any moment earlier or later in their lives. Destiny knew its business.

For sixty years now, Ta Min had been the Avatar's wife. They had made a life together, here on this island. Except for Roku's conflict with Firelord Sozin years ago, nothing disastrous had ever occurred to ruin the serenity of their lives. Not until tonight.

"Where is he?" Ta Min whispered aloud to the night air. One of her neighbors – a pretty young woman, married only two months ago – lay a hand on her fragile shoulder.

"I'm sure he's got everything under control," she said, with as much comfort as she seemed capable of at the moment.

But only an instant later, there was a deep thunderous growl. Ta Min hid her eyes – she couldn't bear it. No, it couldn't be. It wasn't fair. Everyone in the boats around her gasped in horror.

A second peak had burst. While the first volcano had finally been succumbing to Roku's efforts, another to the west had awoken, and seemed to spew the terrible liquid and evil black smoke with a fury twice that of the first.

"No," Ta Min gasped, covering her mouth in dread. It was too much – Roku was too old for a battle like this. Even the Avatar was not all-powerful.

A slender red ribbon seemed to flutter between the plumes of black smoke: his dragon, Fang. The loyal dragon would never leave his master to face the catastrophe alone.

"What's that?" her young neighbor cried, pointing. There, gliding toward the disaster, was another slender ribbon – a blue one.

"Sozin?" Ta Min breathed, bewildered. The blue ribbon was Sozin's dragon. But the Firelord hadn't spoken to Roku for years, not since their dispute about Sozin's plan to expand the Fire Nation into an empire. He must have seen the eruption all the way from his palace on the mainland. Had he actually come to help? He and Roku had once been the closest of friends. Perhaps he was willing to put aside their disagreement.

Perhaps – perhaps there was hope.

But another half hour passed, and it seemed nothing was changing. The volcano was not to be subdued. Ta Min's eyes burned from the heat and the strain of scrutinizing the mountain. The black plumes enveloped everything, and the red glow smeared it all together.

"Just leave, Roku," she whispered, praying that her words might somehow reach him. "Just let it go."

Then, at last, she caught sight of a dragon gliding away from the volcano. For a moment she nearly wept with relief, thinking it was Fang carrying Roku to safety. But.

But – no.

It was the blue dragon. It was Sozin.

He had left Roku to die on the volcano.

"No!" Ta Min screamed, realizing that the Firelord had betrayed her husband yet again. "Roku!"

The volcano vomited – a whole new wave of unstoppable lava and boiling black smoke.

She caught one last glimpse of Fang, curling down to alight on the mountain's side, directly in the path of the flow. She knew Roku was there. She knew if Fang couldn't save Roku, then he would die with him.

"Roku! No! _No_!" she shrieked, frantically, tears blurring away the rest of the horrible scene.

That was it – he was gone. She would never see her husband again.

The Avatar was no more.

She crumpled into a weeping ball, and her young neighbor cradled her old body in her arms, and wept as well. In all the boats, as they drifted further from the island they had all called home, the evacuees all shed solemn tears and silently honored their beloved fallen Avatar.

And at that dark moment, somewhere in the world, a child was born. A boy of the Air Nomads, with bright grey eyes and a smile full of wonder. Where one Avatar ended, another – still yet to know his own Destiny – was beginning.

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><p><em>There's a lot more to go! And this prologue won't really get its full payoff for quite a while, lol... Anyway, onward to the actual story!<em>

_By the way, in case anyone cares, the title of this story comes from one of the Track Team's... uh, tracks. On the soundtrack. It's the track that plays during the big Kataang kiss at the end... Track Track Track._


	2. The Fortune

_A SMALL NOTE: As I've mentioned elsewhere, this story begins a little slow/fluffy, rehashing some scenes from the show and getting into Katara, Aang and Zuko's thoughts during those moments. These parts are in here for character development and/or foreshadowing of events to come... Also, admittedly, for my own indulgence. (And really, isn't that what fan fiction is all about?). **I** find it amusing, but if you get bored with the talking and thinking and old scenes, and want to get to the more intense drama/suspense parts, you can just skip ahead to the chapter "Katara, Alone." That's where the story actually starts, and you won't have missed very much. The only reason I didn't start there is because all these little events will have a bit more significance later in the story, and I enjoy writing kind of behind-the-scenes moments with the characters anyway._ :)

_A SMALL DISCLAIMER: None of the characters, settings, dialogue, or plot elements of "Avatar: the Last Airbender" belong to me. But it would be super cool if they did._

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><p><strong>THE FORTUNE<strong>

Katara could only watch the scene in awe.

All she could see from where she stood in the main street of the town was his silhouette, perched high on a rocky ledge, black against the wicked crimson glow of the advancing lava.

Her protective instincts screamed, seeing him up there, staring straight into the face of fiery death. But that was the side of her that thought of him as a mere boy – the carefree, clumsy kid she'd found in an iceberg several weeks ago.

The other side of her knew him as the Avatar, and knew he didn't need any help at all.

And so, with her brother Sokka watching in equal amazement beside her, Katara only stood and stared as Aang faced the volcano.

The young Airbender charged straight toward the searing, bubbling flow. With a deep breath, he launched himself into the air. Katara squinted to see him against the black sky as he gathered a whirlwind into his arms, returning to the ground with nothing less than a small tornado in tow. The lava swelled, swirled, and seemed almost to engulf him. Katara held her breath anxiously, but in a few moments he had gathered it together and sent a powerful gust of breath over the fiery liquid, hardening it into harmless stone in a matter of moments.

Aang's shoulders relaxed, and he stood there for several moments, surveying the near disaster he had just stopped single-handedly. Warm gusts of wind tore at his Air Nomad clothing.

"Man," Sokka sighed with admiration beside her. "Sometimes I forget just what a powerful bender that kid is."

Katara jumped in her skin.

"Wait – what did you say?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Sokka shrugged, taking no notice of her reaction. "Just that Aang is one powerful bender."

Though he was entirely unaware of it, Sokka had just unwittingly tossed a strange new idea into Katara's mind, and sent her placid thoughts rippling.

Only yesterday, Katara had met a fortuneteller in the town named Aunt Wu. The words the old woman had spoken to her came ringing, reverberating – almost laughing – back into her head.

_I feel a great romance for you,_ the fortuneteller had said. _The man you're going to marry – I can see that he is a very powerful bender._

Katara had, of course, been ecstatic at the time, already forming an image – a mold, in her mind, for her future husband to squeeze into one day. But she'd never even considered…

_Aang_?

- No! But he was so…

What _was_ he, anyway?

He was her friend. Her happy, penguin-sledding, bright-eyed little friend with the bald head and arrow tattoos. The one who flew ten feet in the air when he sneezed. The one who laughed at Sokka's fart jokes, and preferred to play with his pet lemur rather than practice Waterbending, and blushed awkwardly whenever she smiled at him.

But, but, Katara's mind stammered. But, then again –-

Aang could fight a volcano. And win.

He was the Avatar – the most powerful bender in the world.

It could all become so usual. His goofy sense of humor – the way he constantly tried to make her laugh – his wise, open innocence. It was easy to forget who he really was.

Staring back up at the black silhouette of Aang on the defeated volcano, Katara waited for the ripples in her mind to settle. He stood firm and strong – _powerful_. It was different. _He _looked different.

Could it be possible?

Katara's heart pounded. She wasn't sure whether it was happiness or uneasiness that made it pound. She wasn't sure what to think. Perhaps these ripples would never really settle.

But perhaps – she quickly told herself – she was just assuming too much. Letting the fortuneteller's words carry her imagination away. There were lots of powerful benders in the world, right? It was only a coincidence that Sokka had even said those words.

"I suppose he is," she finally agreed with Sokka, quietly.

It was just a stupid fortune, anyway. It could mean a million things, or nothing at all.


	3. Ember Island

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of "Avatar: the Last Airbender." Except probably in a parallel universe somewhere. No - actually, not probably. There is a 100% certainty that somewhere there is a parallel universe where I own "Avatar"... But I guess that doesn't count here. *sobs*_

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><p><strong>EMBER ISLAND<strong>

_EIGHT MONTHS LATER..._

"More power!" Zuko shouted. "Concentrate, Aang!"

Aang struck away the beads of sweat dripping down his brow, clenching his teeth in frustration and digging his heels into the earth.

_Concentrate_, he ordered himself mentally. _Stop thinking so much_.

"Keep your stance," Zuko barked. "Use your breath – fire comes from the breath, not the muscles."

With a fierce roar, Aang leaped into the air, going through the motions of the Firebending routine with intense energy. This was an easy pattern – the first he'd learned, aside from the dragon dance he and Zuko had both learned together – but today he found himself struggling to remember the movements. Firebending wasn't difficult for him; once he'd overcome his initial mental block, it usually came with fluid ease, and he would soon be nearly on Zuko's level of skill.

But Aang wasn't feeling like himself today. He was frustrated, and distracted.

The day before, Sokka – for reasons Aang now could not fathom – had somehow talked the whole gang into going to see a play. A play about _themselves_, and all their (now famous) adventures. A play performed by the atrocious Ember Island Players.

_Worst idea ever_.

Zuko had tried to warn them – he knew the Ember Island Players were awful. Katara, too, had pointed out that it was perhaps not the greatest idea to see a play about themselves. But Sokka had insisted, and somehow he'd convinced all of them. Aang, stupidly, had agreed to go from the start. He'd always rather enjoyed the attention he received as the Avatar; and anyway, curiosity was a weakness of his.

Images from that horrible play kept running through his mind today and filling him with distracting rage. That woman! – That flouncing, flitting, fluttering, tittering, mind-bogglingly irritating woman! – And she was cast in _his _part? Giggling, playing pranks, leaping about the stage like some childish clown!

"_I'm the Avatar, silly! Yip yip! Hee hee hee!"_

Aang's face still flushed with rage, just thinking about it. It was _humiliating_! Especially in front of Katara.

And then there were the more grim scenes near the end of the play, which made Aang's stomach curl into a quivering little ball inside him. The actor who played Zuko, dying with an agonizing scream in the fake flames of his fake evil sister Azula. The conclusion, in which the Firelord Ozai character easily killed that prancing wannabe Avatar in the final battle. How he gloated over his theatrical victory with a steaming, putrid mound of Fire Nation propaganda, as the Fire Nation audience cheered eagerly to see the Avatar destroyed.

Aang shuddered. If only he could erase every bit of it from his mind.

Yet somehow, right now, despite all that – what was really distracting him more than anything was not the play itself, but the humiliating and crushing conversation he and Katara had had on the verandah during the second intermission.

_I'm just a little confused_, she'd said. Confused. Therefore, not in the mood to be kissed. But, of course, like an idiot, what had he done? – The awful moment kept replaying over and over in his head: the unhappy shock in her eyes, the anger in her voice, the awkward embarrassment. He'd blown it. How could he have been so stupid?

Aang's feet got tangled up in one another as he went through the Firebending routine, and clumsily he lost his balance and fell to the ground like a pile of rotten cabbage.

"Ugh, what's _wrong _with me?" he demanded, pounding his fists into the dirt in frustration. A little poof of fire burst from his flaring nostrils.

"You've never had trouble with this routine," Zuko commented with slight confusion. "This should be easy for you."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Aang shouted. "I already know I have this one down. Here, let me start again – " He rose to his feet, ready to annihilate that stupid routine. The Airbender tattoos on his fists flexed and trembled.

Zuko scrutinized him carefully. He was still so small – though he was certainly growing fast enough – but despite his size, he looked like nothing less than raw, condensed power. There was an anguish and frustration in his eyes, very uncharacteristic of him, that made Zuko suspect perhaps now was not the best time to practice Firebending.

"You're not yourself today," Zuko said. "I think we should take a break."

"No!" Aang protested. "I don't need a break. We've barely started. If I just –"

"Aang," Zuko glowered sternly at the young Avatar. "It's time for a break."

Aang glared at him for a moment, and then his fists began to relax. He sighed.

"Fine," he said quietly. "We'll take a break."

"Get some water," Zuko ordered him, heading for his own canteen on the stone steps of the courtyard.

Aang went to a fountain at the other end of the courtyard and merely dunked his bald head straight into the flowing water. He held it there for so long that Zuko began to worry that he was trying to drown himself, but just before Zuko was about to intervene, Aang's head burst out of the water. He gasped and sputtered, rubbed his face furiously, and then Waterbended all the extra water dripping from him back into the fountain. He was completely dry by the time he stumbled wearily over to sit down next to Zuko on the steps, still breathing deeply.

They sat in silence for a long time, staring at the empty courtyard, each lost in his own thoughts. Birds chirped nearby, unaware of the complexities of the world. In the distance, the ocean whispered.

Zuko couldn't imagine ever getting used to the unpredictability of Fate. Was it really less than a year ago that he'd been so consumed with rage? It seemed almost like another lifetime now. Back then, his sole purpose in life had been to capture this _kid_ – so ordinary, yet so significant – to win back his honor and his father's love. And years before that, this very palace had been the vacation home he and his family came to during the summertime. Before his mother vanished; before his sister Azula had become so utterly, frighteningly heartless; before he knew what a monstrous tyrant his father really was. And now, here he was. Ex-prince of the Fire Nation and rightful heir to the Firelord's throne, sitting in his family's old vacation home training the Avatar, his one-time archrival, to fight and defeat his own father.

_Destiny is a funny thing_. Zuko could almost hear his Uncle's voice, saying those words and sipping a cup of jasmine tea, smiling in that patient, knowing way of his. Zuko missed his Uncle terribly. But what worried him more at the moment was the fact that his Firebending pupil, who had very little time left to prepare to fight Firelord Ozai, seemed to be having some kind of minor breakdown.

Aang, on the other hand, already knew that Fate was fickle. It was no longer a surprise to him. After all, he'd accidentally frozen himself in an iceberg for a hundred years, just in time to avoid the slaughter of his people, the Air Nomads, by the Firelord Sozin. And he'd been awoken from the ice at precisely the right time to train and fight Firelord Ozai and set the unbalanced world to rights once more. Coincidences just don't happen that way.

Especially when the "coincidence" that had freed him from the iceberg was the ridiculously beautiful, blue-eyed Water Tribe girl he'd been in love with nearly since he first set eyes on her.

Aang remembered everything about that day. The white daylight, drawing his mind back to consciousness. Sudden awareness of the terrible cold. The dizziness of awakening – tipping, falling, sliding. The ache – the confusion – And then Katara leaning over him, hair dancing in the frigid wind, blue eyes sparkling at him with concern and curiosity, and the pure sunlight behind her.

And what was the first thing he said to her?

_Will you go penguin sledding with me_?

Right. He'd been an idiot from the very beginning, apparently.

Although Aang could have, and should have, been pondering a million other things at the moment, such as his imminent confrontation with the Firelord, all he could manage to think about right now was Katara. Perhaps thinking of Katara was a way for him to momentarily avoid the unpleasant truth that he would have to kill the Firelord in the battle; but if it _was_ a distraction, it was almost equally as unpleasant. He scourged himself with the memories of the night before: Katara – recoiling from him in frustration. Katara – hurrying to get away from him. Katara – sitting beside Zuko for the rest of the play, avoiding his eyes very deliberately.

"What's bugging you?" Zuko asked finally, in a voice more gruff than usual. Zuko usually got a little awkward when he was forced to talk about – _feelings –_ with people.

"I'm just tired, I guess," Aang sighed, leaning on his knees and folding his arms behind his bald head. "That play kinda took it out of me last night."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Zuko grunted. He was already dreading the inevitable moment he would have to face his sister Azula – the cold, evil, manipulative Firebending prodigy – and watching her character burn his character alive on the stage had not done anything to alleviate his anxiety.

"It's not just the play though, is it?" Zuko pressed, knowing they wouldn't get anything else done today unless Aang got whatever it was off his chest. "You're upset about something. Trust me, I know anger when I see it. I've had lots of experience with it. And you hardly ever get angry about anything. So, what's going on?"

"It's nothing, all right!" Aang said, digging his toes into the dirt. "I'm just still mad about the play, that's all."

"It _was _a bad play," Zuko agreed. "But I don't think it's worth getting so upset about. I mean, in a year no one will even remember it."

"I know! But – agh," Aang growled. "It was just really, _really_ bad. _So _bad. I just – I don't want to talk about it."

Female voices drifted over the summery breeze, and on the other side of the cloistered courtyard, Katara and Toph meandered through the open arcades, arguing about something – Toph's hygiene, from the sound of it. Katara was in the process of convincing Aang's blind Earthbending teacher to _at least_ agree to wash her feet twice a week; Toph was arguing that clean feet made her uncomfortable.

Zuko watched the two girls pass through, and then glanced at Aang. The boy was staring straight at them, his cheeks flushing awkwardly. His gray-eyed stare was enough to draw the attention of Katara, who glanced their way for a brief moment, then hastily turned back to Toph, continuing away from the courtyard.

Aang's eyes fell straight to the ground, and he sighed deeply.

Aha, Zuko thought – so _that's _what the problem was.

He suddenly recalled how Aang had made such a big deal about not sitting next to Katara during the play. And then there was that painfully bad scene in which Katara's actress, absurdly and incessantly melodramatic, had declared a romantic attraction to the ridiculous, whiny Zuko character; not only that, but she'd gone on to insist that the Avatar was nothing more than a little brother to her. Zuko had felt uncomfortable himself; but Aang had got up and simply walked out. No wonder.

"So... you like her, huh?" Zuko asked bluntly.

Aang immediately sat bolt upright. His big eyes turned to Zuko with a look first of alarm, then embarrassment, then anger, then awkward shyness, then false innocence. Zuko wasn't sure if the boy was going to yell at him or giggle.

"Like who? What?" Aang stuttered clumsily. "I mean – I don't know what you mean. Who are you talking about?"

"Don't be dumb, kid," Zuko said, almost laughing at him. "You know who I mean."

Aang paused, shifting his eyes for a moment. Then he grinned feebly and suggested, "Uh… Toph?"

"No. Not Toph."

Aang seemed to realize he was cornered. For a moment, it looked as if he was considering a gusty Airbender-style escape – he'd escaped from Zuko that way many times before, after all.

Apparently, though, he decided this situation was more inescapable, because finally he just sighed tragically and slumped over again.

"She doesn't like me," he finally murmured.

Though Zuko wouldn't have ever said so, he felt a little sorry for the kid. Love was hard – he knew that from experience as well. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. After all, Zuko had abandoned his girlfriend Mai in order to come help Aang learn Firebending, and now she'd probably hate him forever. But that didn't stop Zuko from doing his duty.

Besides, Aang had to be wrong. He was sure of it.

"What makes you think she doesn't like you?" Zuko asked. "I would have thought – "

"She told me." Aang sighed again in dejection.

"She did?" Zuko asked incredulously.

"Well… basically."

"When?" Zuko demanded. _Probably months ago_, he thought to himself. She must have changed her mind since then – or maybe the kid was just reading too much into things. Zuko just couldn't fathom that Katara didn't like Aang, at least a little. He well remembered the look on her face at Ba Sing Se, after Azula had sent a deadly lightning bolt pulsing through Aang's body. Aang had screamed in agony, then plummeted unconscious to the ground. Katara, disregarding the entire battle going on around her, had rushed to catch him, pummeling everything in her path with a gush of water. Zuko could still see the young Waterbender, cradling Aang's limp body in her arms, streams of tears falling down her cheeks and complete despair in her eyes.

And then, of course, there was that threatening speech Katara had given Zuko on his first day in the good-guy gang. That was only a few weeks ago. She'd made her point so well, Zuko had been slightly afraid even to speak to Aang for days, for fear of what Katara might do to protect him.

Zuko shook his head. If she didn't have _some _kind of feelings for Aang, then Uncle was indifferent to jasmine tea.

"It happened last night, during the intermission," Aang replied miserably, taking Zuko by surprise. "She didn't say it straight out, but… Well, I figured it out."

"Oh." Zuko's eyebrow – the one on the side of his face that had _not _been burned away by his father years before – rose slightly, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Helping people with their romantic lives was not one of Zuko's specialties.

"Is it you?" Aang asked suddenly. There was a small shudder of anger in his voice, but it was buried beneath a thick layer of sad resignation.

"What? What do you mean?" Zuko asked, bewildered.

"Last night, she told me we can't be together because she's confused," Aang explained. "It's because of _you_, isn't it?"

"What?" Zuko cried, completely taken aback. "You think there's something between me and Katara?"

"I can't think of any other explanation," Aang said defensively. His gray eyes glared fiercely, daring Zuko to deny it.

Zuko was dumbstruck for a moment. "Just because it happened in that stupid play doesn't mean it's real! I _have _a girlfriend, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, the knife-throwing girl," Aang muttered. "But you left her."

"Not because I wanted to!" Zuko growled, trying hard not to get angry. Since his last painful meeting with her in the Boiling Rock, the subject of Mai was a difficult one for him. "Look – up until about a week ago, Katara hated my guts. She basically told me she would destroy me if I did anything to hurt you."

Aang pondered for a moment, then furrowed his brow in frustration. "Well… but I'm the Avatar. Of course she wants to protect me."

"Aang," Zuko sighed, feeling impatient. "She _likes _you. Maybe she's just not ready to show it yet, but she does, deep down."

"How do you know?" Aang asked, clearly incredulous.

"I just have a hunch, okay?" Zuko rolled his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed and wishing he could get back to yelling Firebending instructions at Aang instead. "You just – can't let this bother you so much. I know it's hard, but there are more important things you need to focus on right now."

"Yeah," Aang sighed. "I know. I just can't help it. It's like - it's like I can't do anything right. One minute, things are great. And then the next I've totally blown it. I don't get it. What am I supposed to do? Is it _supposed_ to be like this? I mean - I just - I don't understand why it has to be so complicated!"

He hid his face in his knuckles in frustration.

Zuko didn't smile that often, but he couldn't help a small grin now. After everything Aang had done, and could do – with all the armies and monsters and disasters he'd faced and overcome – with the fate of the entire world resting on his shoulders – the all-powerful Avatar was completely undone. By a girl.

Understandable, Zuko thought. Kind of pitiful. But mostly, hilarious.

"What's wrong with me?" Aang asked for the second time that day, his eyes turning to Zuko in earnest distress, hopefully looking for any words of wisdom or reassurance.

_Yikes. I should say something. Uh... What would Uncle say_? Zuko wondered. He looked at the unhappy boy dumbly for a few moments, attempting to somehow channel his Uncle's wisdom. Nothing came. Drat. He'd just have to try it on his own, then.

"Well, I don't think anything's wrong with you," Zuko finally shrugged, deciding if he couldn't think of something wise to say, the next best thing would be the simple, straightforward truth. "You've got a lot going for you, kid. I mean, you're the Avatar."

"Yeah, but _you're _the Fire Prince," Aang mumbled, clearly not reassured whatsoever.

"Ex-Prince," Zuko corrected him. "And who cares? We were talking about you."

Aang didn't reply. Just slumped.

"You just need to give Katara time," Zuko went on. "I'm sure she's just preoccupied with the war and everything, and once it's all over, things will be different. Honestly, I think _you _ought to be more preoccupied with the war yourself, considering the whole thing revolves around you."

"Maybe you're right," Aang sighed.

"It'll turn out for the best, trust me," Zuko said, patting him a little awkwardly on the shoulder. "My Uncle would say that Destiny is a funny thing. From my experience, you really can never tell how things will turn out, so you just have to go with it and trust that you'll end up where you're supposed to be."

_Wow_, Zuko thought to himself. _Any more speeches like that, and soon I'll be drinking tea and playing Pai Sho all the time too_. Great – he was becoming old.

Aang smiled at Zuko slowly – an appreciative look, though more for the simple fact that Zuko had actually made an effort to help him than because he actually felt better.

"Thanks, Zuko," Aang said, staring across the courtyard in deep thought. "You're right, there are more important things at stake for me to worry about this. I'm glad I could talk to you about it."

"No problem."

"My feelings for Katara got in the way once before, too. Because I couldn't control them, I ran away from my training in the spirit world to help her and locked up my last Chakra."

"Uh-huh."

"If I'd just had more self-control and let go of my feelings, I'd be able to use the Avatar state to fight the Firelord. But now I have to go into battle without it. I can't afford to let anything like that happen again. I have to forget Katara now and _focus_."

"Uh-huh," Zuko yawned. He'd started to zone out around the time Aang said the word _Chakra_.

"I know I have to do it, but it's still hard." Aang sighed, leaning back on his elbows. He tilted his head back to gaze into the cloudy sky for a moment, then closed his eyes, immersing himself in the wind. He smiled softly. "I love her, you know."

Zuko stared at the kid, grinning slightly once more. Understandable. Yet somehow humorous. And almost, weirdly – _cute_ – though Zuko would have never_, ever_ used that word out loud.

"You're still just a kid, Aang," Zuko reminded him. "You've got your whole life to live."

"Technically, I'm 112 – no, wait – 113 years old now," Aang pointed out.

"But you're still a kid," Zuko insisted. "A really powerful kid, and a weird one. I'll give you that. But keep in mind, not many people find the person they're supposed to be with when they're your age."

"You mean a hundred and – ?"

"_No_, dummy. Thirteen." Zuko rolled his eyes, while Aang grinned. "That hundred years in the iceberg doesn't count. And you're missing the point, anyway."

Aang laughed a little, a mischievous spark in his eyes. "No, I got it. Thanks... _Sifu Hotman_."

Zuko rolled his eyes again and sighed with resignation at the nickname. Aang wasn't going to let it go - now he was just calling Zuko that because he knew it annoyed him.

"No problem," Zuko replied finally. "Now – think fast!"

And he suddenly launched a fireball from his fist. Aang sprang out of the way on a gust of wind, drifting like a leaf down to the other side of the courtyard. The stone steps where he'd been sitting a moment before were black with soot.

"Not funny!" Aang gasped.

"You've got to keep on your toes if you want to face my father," Zuko smirked. "Now – the routine, once more. And this time, _actually_ concentrate."


	4. The Coronation

_So this chapter's here pretty much because I always wondered how Sokka's first reaction to AangXKatara would go. Also because I love Sokka._

_Well, that's kind of a lie, actually. (Not my love for Sokka! I mean about the purpose of this chapter). There's actually a pretty good amount of significant character stuff that goes on here... But mostly, I'm amused by Sokka. Aren't we all, though? _^_^

_DISCLAIMER: I did not invent this wonderful world or these fantastic characters… But I like to imagine that I did._

* * *

><p><strong>THE CORONATION<strong>

_TWO WEEKS LATER..._

"I can't believe we're here," Sokka grinned. "Can you, Katara?"

Katara smiled at her brother, who stood beside her with one arm around his girlfriend, Suki. Suki was fully garbed in her Kyoshi Warrior uniform, her pretty face hidden beneath the vibrant warrior makeup. But the joy in her expression shone through nevertheless. Katara herself had not been able to stop smiling since she'd woken up that morning.

It was the day of Zuko's coronation as the new Firelord, and soon he and Aang would emerge on the steps of the palace for the grand ceremony. It seemed that everyone in the entire world could talk of nothing anymore except Aang and Zuko – the Avatar and the Firelord. It had hardly been more than a week since the battle, and already, both Aang's final showdown with Ozai, and Zuko's confrontation with Azula, were becoming legendary. Katara herself could hardly believe she'd been a part of it all.

Katara, Sokka, Suki and Toph all had a special place up front for the ceremony, of course. Katara and Sokka's father, Hakoda, was also with them, as well as all of the friends that had fought with them along the course of their long and difficult journey. They all stood before the palace steps, at the front of the massive crowd gathered to watch the ceremony. The streets of the city were full of the noises of anticipation, and Katara couldn't help but share Sokka's feelings – was it all actually real?

Had it really been only a year ago that she and Sokka had been taking care of their tribe on their own, with no knowledge of Aang, or Zuko, or Toph and Suki, or of how deeply entangled their own lives were with the fate of the world itself? Were they really here now, having finally come through the final battle alive, seeing the world set to rights at last and their friends claiming their rightful identities before everyone? It felt like an impossible dream – except Katara knew she would have never before dared to dream of such a day.

After what seemed hours of waiting, at last Zuko emerged in his complete royal robes, with a happier expression than Katara could ever remember him having. The crowd cheered wildly for him, but he quietly held up a hand.

"Please," his voice rang through the courtyard. "The real hero is the Avatar."

He turned slightly to face Aang as the young Airbender stepped out into the light beside him. He was dressed in a solemn yellow cloak, clasped with a shimmering pendant, and there was a contented, tranquil glow in his gray eyes.

_He's so tall_, was the first phrase that leaped unexpectedly into Katara's mind. She was taken aback by herself for a moment. She hadn't seen him since the week before the final battle, because Aang had vanished for a few days, and after that she'd been with Zuko, helping him fight his maniacal sister. But even so, she hadn't expected such a reaction from herself.

Oddly, as she watched him step out beside Zuko on the palace steps, the next thought that came to her mind was an image: Aang, at the South Pole, the day after she'd met him, imitating a penguin for her amusement. She laughed to herself. Was this really that same goofy kid they'd freed from the iceberg?

It was as if, while she wasn't looking, Aang had transformed from a boy into a young man overnight.

The crowd immediately burst into enthusiastic cheers for the Avatar and the Firelord. Of course, Sokka, Katara, Suki, Toph and the others all cheered with more gusto than everyone. Aang's eyes singled her out of the crowd for a moment, and he beamed at her.

Surprising herself for the third time, she blushed.

Zuko then gave a grand speech about rebuilding the world and bringing harmony to the four nations once more. Katara heard most of it, though she found it difficult to recall afterward. It had been a great speech, she knew; very moving and eloquent. But as he knelt to finally receive the crown of the Firelord – that crown he'd come so far to be worthy of – Katara's eyes kept wandering of their own accord back to Aang, standing silently and solemnly by throughout the ceremony. Being the Avatar.

Every now and then he glanced in her direction as well. Each time their eyes collided, a little trace of shyness would creep into his otherwise placid expression, and he would look quickly away.

Katara's heart pounded. She knew it was happiness that made it pound. Her mind rippled yet again, but didn't settle. It stirred and stirred until it was thrashing like a stormy sea. And something deep, deep inside her – surprising her yet again – wished that she could catch his eyes again, and he wouldn't look away.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling, Firelord Zuko?"<p>

Zuko turned from where he stood at the palace window, gazing at the stars and the full moon. His Uncle was half-shadowed, half-illuminated by the silver evening light, and his jovial old face was wide with contentment. In his hands he held (what else?) two cups of tea, and one of these he offered to his nephew.

"Can't you tell, Uncle?" Zuko smiled, taking the cup of tea gratefully. "It's all so strange. I mean, look at us, here. Father is in prison now. Azula's in prison, too. I'm with Mai again. The Avatar and I are friends now. And you and I are here sipping tea just like old times."

"And, of course, there's that little thing about you being the Firelord now," Uncle's eyes glanced at his nephew with that wise mirth he was known for. "Don't forget about that part."

"Of course I haven't forgotten," Zuko smiled again – he couldn't remember having smiled this much since he was a kid. Gazing out at the moon, he thought back to the Fire Nation's invasion on the North Pole about half a year ago. He himself had kidnapped Aang and put the balance of the world into jeopardy, all for his own shallow, selfish reasons. It had only been a few months ago, but he felt like a completely different person now. He was going to make sure that amends were made for all the destruction his father, and his nation, had imposed on the world.

"You once had your face burned for speaking out against the evils of your father and his armies," Uncle said, as if he was reading Zuko's mind. Zuko wondered how he did that, and if he would teach him.

"It was so long ago," Zuko whispered.

"You were so young then – the same age as our young Avatar – yet even then you had the courage and wisdom to see the injustice that needed to be stopped. And now, you see, you have been proven correct after all, and are victorious. Where you once believed your scar was a symbol of shame, it is now a symbol of truth. And honor."

Zuko quietly touched the rough skin on the left side of his face, where his father had long ago permanently damaged him. He had felt it so many times; he had scowled at it each time he passed a mirror. But he'd never thought of it like that before.

Honor.

_His _honor.

There it had been, with him all along. Only Uncle could have turned it around like that. A small tear formulated instinctively in Zuko's good eye, the result of so many years of struggle and self-hate. But now, all was peaceful and right.

"May I intrude?" came a deep female voice from the doorway.

Zuko and his Uncle turned to see dark-haired Mai, tall and grim and beautiful, smirking at them fondly.

"Certainly, my dear," Uncle grinned merrily. He'd been trying to convince Zuko to settle down with a pretty girl for at least a year now, so he was more than willing to let the two of them talk alone. "I'll just be going. No knife-throwing, Mai."

"I'll try to resist the urge." Her eyes gleamed beneath the dramatic line of her bangs. As soon as Uncle had taken his leave, she wandered into Zuko's arms.

"Hey," Zuko said, holding her tight.

"Hey yourself," she grinned.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"The fact that I'm standing here hugging the new Firelord," she replied, leaning back to look up at him. "Everything's going to be different after this, isn't it?"

"Everything is already different," Zuko said.

She gave him a suddenly serious look. "I heard that you went to speak with your father in the prisons."

Zuko was irate for a moment. "Those idiot prison guards really need to learn to keep their mouths shut! I mean, honestly, I can't do a thing without – !"

"What did you – I mean, _why_?" Mai asked, clearly a little concerned. "Why do you feel the need to talk to him? Isn't is enough that the Avatar spared his life? After all he's done, he doesn't deserve any pity. Especially not from you."

"You don't understand, Mai," Zuko shook his head.

"No, I understand that he's your father, and I'm sure it's hard, even after everything – "

"He's _not _my father anymore," Zuko said firmly, stopping her in her tracks. "That's not why I went to speak to him."

"Then why?" Mai asked in genuine curiosity, then seemed to briefly reconsider. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'll live."

"I want him to tell me where my mother is," Zuko explained, without a bit of hesitation. "You remember, she disappeared when I was too young to understand – the same day my grandfather died and my father became the Firelord. I think she's still alive, and my father knows where she is."

Mai was clearly shocked by this news, though she didn't say so. "Did he tell you anything?"

Zuko scowled. "No, not yet. But he _will_. I'm going to make sure of that."

Mai was silent, gazing at Zuko for a few moments, lost in her own thoughts. Zuko smiled quietly at her.

"Don't worry, Mai," he said. "Everything's going to be fine now."

He believed it would be, too. Only that morning he'd awoken certain that Mai still hated him – yet she'd utterly astonished him by showing up just before the coronation, not at all angry or bitter as he'd expected. And she had implied (Mai rarely said anything straight out, especially concerning emotions that embarrassed her) that she forgave him for everything. And suddenly all was well – as long as he _never broke up with her again_. She'd made that part very clear.

Zuko had, rather accidentally, told Aang about it afterward. Aang had laughed – the kid seemed to find amusement in everything – and told Zuko that he thought Mai was perfect for him. Why? Because they were the exact same level of gloominess. Obviously, it was Destiny that they would be together.

Zuko chuckled to himself. _Destiny_. It definitely had a strange sense of humor.

"Mai?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I hope this isn't too weird, but – you, uh – you wouldn't really be opposed to marrying me, would you?"

Mai gawked at him. Zuko would have gawked at himself, if he could have. Where had _that_ come from?

"You mean… _soon_?" she asked in astonishment.

He felt a little awkward. "Well, whenever," he shrugged. "Just sometime."

She looked up at Zuko with a devious gleam in her eyes. "I don't know, Zuko. You _did _break my heart before."

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

Zuko sighed. "Well… as long as you never break my heart for revenge, I can live with it, I guess."

"But revenge is so exciting," Mai sniggered, tossing her bangs disdainfully. "Oh, I guess if it means so much to you, Zuko, I'll go along with it."

"Really?" He was actually completely surprised, but happy. "Wait – you mean the marriage, sometime, part. Right?"

"Sure. Sometime. Why not?" she smirked.

"Well… great!" he exclaimed, awkwardly loud for a moment. Then, he didn't know what to do. What did one usually do after a conversation like that? Should he say something else? Should he do something?

Mai saved him the trouble, ruffling his long hair and grinning. "So, I guess this means you sort of like me too, huh?"

"Well, yeah," he smiled. "I mean – I guess it means I, actually, sort of love you."

He felt stupid after he said it, so to alleviate his embarrassment he quickly leaned in and kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he pulled away, she was blushing.

"Geesh, Zuko," she rolled her eyes, looking away to hide her smile. "Don't be so mushy. It's totally embarrassing."

The two of them stayed a long while there in that place, with the moonlight washing their faces white. Somewhere in the palace, they could hear the distant sounds of Uncle's Tsungi horn, playing a romantic ballad. And, well – that was that.

* * *

><p>Katara looked around one evening and found that a whole week had come and gone, and she wondered where it had run off to in such a hurry. The battle they'd all been waiting for for so long was over – <em>really <em>over. And here they were, all gathered together in Uncle Iroh's brand new tea shop in Ba Sing Se, wasting time just because they could. It was the abnormal normalness of it all that really hit her hard.

Zuko and his Uncle served some of Uncle's famous tea to everyone. Suki and Mai played Pai Sho, while Toph reclined lazily and Aang teased Momo with a bouncing ball of air. Sokka was painting a picture of all of them. When it was done they all gathered round to see it. It wasn't very good – in fact, it was pretty bad. Sokka had never been the greatest artist, though he never ceased to try. Katara complained that he'd given her Momo's ears ("those are your hair loopies!" he said defensively); Suki wanted to know why she'd suddenly become a Firebender; Mai protested that she looked like a man.

Suddenly, Katara looked up and realized that Aang was no longer in the group. Glancing around the room, she saw his silhouette out on the balcony, standing serenely in the light of the sunset. Discreetly, she slipped out of the group and made her way toward the doorway.

Aang turned slightly as she approached, beaming at her over his shoulder. His eyes were full of a peaceful joy, and never before had he looked so simultaneously old and young. Mature, but still full of his own childlike innocence. Hopefully he'd never lose that, Katara thought, and realized she was blushing yet again.

Neither of them said a word – there weren't any words that would have been right, not then, in the beauty of that evening. Katara drew him into a hug, and the two of them held each other tightly for a few moments, taking comfort in one another – just like they'd always done.

It was all over now – everything. The long journey complete, and here they were. Grown up, yet children.

Katara was a pool of tranquil water; Aang was a pebble that had fallen in, unexpectedly. Just a small one, but the ripples he'd begun in her had never settled – if anything, they'd grown, just as the two of them had. Grown into waves. She'd always liked him; he was so vivacious and friendly, it was hard not to. She'd always admired him, even envied his natural talents. She'd laughed with him, argued with him, and worried for him (often). At times he'd seemed so small, so fragile – and at other times he could be so powerful that it was frightening. And at other times… many times… he was just Aang, and he'd almost clumsily stumbled in and turned her world inside out, just by being himself.

But up until now, he'd confused her. The confusion had begun long ago, and had gradually taken hold until she had felt that she was being pulled in ten different directions, all in a single moment. Part of her had loved him from the beginning – a large part, she would admit. But what kind of love it was, she didn't know. Was he a boy, or was he a hero? That made all the difference. But he was _both_, and she couldn't reconcile that. With the threat of the Firelord over their heads, she'd never had a moment to untangle the mess inside her.

But now it was over. And, as it turned out, Aang was just Aang. Everything all at once, wrapped up in himself. And now he'd grown into himself at last; and she saw it clearly; and it was exactly right.

They held each other tight for what seemed a long while. All the raw pain and joy they'd experienced together was there, contained in that embrace, and they could both at last breathe and acknowledge what it was.

At last they pulled apart. Katara looked at him – he looked back at her.

She tried to dig up that old uncertainty again, but it was gone. So she kissed him. Honestly, she was out of reasons not to.

If Aang was at all surprised, she couldn't tell. He kissed her back, and she pulled him closer.

Another world later, the ground resumed its rightful place beneath their feet.

"Wo-o-ow," Aang sighed, grinning rather dizzily.

She almost laughed at him, or maybe at herself. Her cheeks must have been the same color as that sunset.

"Well…" she said, oddly unsure of herself suddenly. What did one say after something like that?

"So…" Aang said, apparently also not sure about what ought to happen next, but looking undeniably satisfied with things just the way they were.

Katara leaned her head forward slightly, until her brow was resting against the arrow tattoo on his. She smiled rather sheepishly.

"You know – you know this means I kind of like you, right?" she said finally, resisting the urge to laugh at herself again.

"Yeah, I thought maybe so." Aang _did _laugh, just a little. She almost expected his tattoos to start glowing, he was beaming so brightly.

"You know, actually, I – I think I like you a lot," Katara added after a few moments. She felt a little silly, and couldn't stop that ridiculous heat creeping up along her neck and into her face. Aang looked like he was about to melt into absurdly happy pudding in her arms.

"You know," he began slowly, dropping his eyes shyly for a moment. Even in the dim light at the end of the sunset she could see him turning bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears. "You know, I – I actually love you. Did you know that?"

For a brief moment, she couldn't quite handle it, and looked away - in any direction possible – out at the city, back at the door to the tea shop, down at the wooden planks beneath their feet, up at the stars that were just beginning to timidly pop out above their heads. Processing. Letting her thoughts roll in the waves of her mind. But she was smiling – uncontrollably.

"We should do this again sometime," she said.

"Yeah! Yeah, we definitely should," he agreed eagerly.

There were a few moments of giddy silence.

"You want to now?"

"Uh-huh."

So she kissed him again.

* * *

><p>"Hey, where's Aang?" Zuko asked suddenly. The teashop had grown dim as the sun had set, so he was in the process of lighting a few more lamps. Mai was assisting him, and Uncle Iroh was preparing to make everyone more tea.<p>

Sokka looked up suddenly from the new painting he'd started (this time, of Aang's battle with the Firelord – Ozai already looked a bit like a bug-eyed, beefy vampire).

"Yeah, and where's Katara?" he asked.

A snide laugh came from the floor, where Toph was comfortably sprawled.

"Wow, you guys," she chuckled. "You are all really unobservant. They both walked out a while back."

"Where'd they go?" asked Suki. She was currently seated beside Sokka, watching him paint, and had been debating over whether she should try to give him some constructive criticism or just keep her mouth shut and let him enjoy it ignorantly. So far, she'd decided on the latter option.

"They're just out there on the balcony," Toph said, waving a hand carelessly toward the door. "They've been out there, 'talking.'" She made air quotes around the word _talking_.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'talking'?"

"I mean, they're making out," Toph said bluntly, grinning deviously.

For a moment, Sokka looked as if he'd just been trampled by a platypus bear. He didn't say a word, but his expression was priceless. Zuko and Suki both laughed.

"Aw, Sokka," Toph sighed. "I wish I could see your face."

Sokka shook his head very violently and abruptly, wondering for a moment if someone had slipped a little cactus juice into his tea. "Making out," he repeated blankly.

"Yep," Toph nodded. "I can't believe you guys didn't notice. You really can't see _anything _with your feet, can you? Poor sighted dopes."

Sokka shook his head again, frantically. An odd image had suddenly sprung into his mind – Aang, unusually short and big-eared, grabbing hold of his little sister, dipping her backwards and wagging a slobbery tongue at her. It was… disconcerting.

"This… makes… me… feel… weird," he said, slowly and dramatically.

Suki laughed again. "Why?"

"_Because_!" Sokka cried, dropping his paintbrush to the table and throwing his arms into the air theatrically. He'd never be able to finish the painting now – there's no way he could focus, knowing that all this slobbering nonsense was going on somewhere nearby. "It's Katara! And Aang! It's like – it's like my little brother kissing my little sister! Eewww!" He shook his head again, quickly – get it out, get it out!

"I don't think _they _see it like that," Toph sniggered, relishing every second of this.

Sokka stared into space for a moment, a new idea having suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a second – _my _sister – is making out with the _Avatar_!"

His sister, and the Avatar. He and Katara had heard stories about the Avatar from their Gran Gran when they were both small, and had listened eagerly, dreaming of what might happen if the legendary Avatar would ever return. And now… Katara, and the Avatar. There was something, somehow, really _not_ normal about that. Even _if _the Avatar was actually just Aang.

Suddenly the ridiculous big-eared image was gone, and all he could see was another image of Aang – a pile of muscles, all glowy and creepy, throwing fireballs and mountains into the air, laughing loudly in that spooky, echoey Avatar-voice. And then Katara swooning in his arms, saying in a sultry voice, "Oooh, Aang… you're so _bad_." Then it was back to the slobbery tongue thing again.

"Weird! Weird! Weird!" Sokka pounded his fists on his head, trying to knock out the disturbing ideas clunking around in there.

"Maybe they'll get married," Toph grinned. "Then you'll be the Avatar's brother-in-law."

"Come on, Sokka," Suki laughed, taking hold of his hands. "You must have known they liked each other."

"Seriously, Sokka. Even _I _knew that," Zuko said.

"Yeah, I mean, Twinkle Toes wasn't too good at hiding it," Toph agreed.

"Well… I mean… I thought he probably had a dumb little crush on her, but – gah!" Sokka was too busy trying to mentally block the images in his mind to come up with the rest of his sentence.

"Oh, calm down," Suki grinned. "You should be happy. I mean, he _is_ your best friend. _And _he's the Avatar. _And _he's totally in love with her anyway."

"Plus, he's just a really nice little guy," Zuko added, smirking.

"Yeah," Mai nodded. "Chipper. That's the word for him. Or perky."

"Plucky?" Zuko suggested.

"No, no, definitely chipper," Mai shook her head.

The creepy images in Sokka's mind were beginning to settle down into more normal feelings, much to his relief. One particular idea – a memory of the secret dance party Aang had thrown in the Fire Nation – came back to him in a friendly way. Katara had been so happy that night. They had danced really well together.

"Aang _is _pretty chipper," he said thoughtfully. He had to admit, though it was still a little weird, there was something rather… _cute_ about it. He liked Aang, quite a lot; they'd bonded quickly during their journey together. It was easy to like Aang. And Katara – she'd trusted Aang before anyone else did, even himself. She'd even threatened to leave home and travel all the way to the North Pole alone with him, only the day after they'd found him in the iceberg.

Thinking back, Sokka knew that he'd known all along that Aang had a little thing for Katara. He'd even joked about it before (though mostly because it used to make Katara annoyed). But he never expected anything would actually come of it! Aang was such a kid. But then again, he wasn't really. Sokka would never forget watching Aang's battle with the Firelord, and the way the kid had transformed before his eyes into an incredible cosmic fighting machine.

And to think of it: his sister – _his _little sister – with the Avatar!... Impressive.

What if they _did _get married? – But not too soon, no way. Maybe in five, or ten, or forty-seven years. Sokka would be fine with that. And then they actually _would _be brothers. Aang would definitely be the best brother-in-law ever! And then, maybe Aang and Katara would have a bunch of little Airbender babies, who would all call him 'Uncle Sokka.'

Awwwwww… _Uncle Sokka_.

"Sokka, what are you thinking about?" Suki's voice broke through his rabbit-trail of thoughts.

"Huh?" Sokka said. "Oh… nothing. Why do you ask?"

"You were grinning in a kind of goofy way," she laughed. "Usually you only do that when you're daydreaming about something."

"Hey! I can daydream if I want."

"I just hope you weren't daydreaming about all the ways you're going to hurt Aang when they come back inside," Zuko said, chuckling to himself at the thought.

Toph laughed loudly. "Oh, I'd love to see Sokka try to beat up Twinkle Toes! That would be _hilarious_."

"Yeah, _no_," Sokka said quickly, shaking his head. "I saw Aang fight the Firelord and get all glowy and creepy and go into the big crazy spinning element ball of death. I'm not messing with that."

"Tea time, everyone!" said Uncle, making a grand entrance into the room with a tray full of teas. "I hope I remembered what you all like. It's hard to keep everyone's preferences straight sometimes."

* * *

><p>"You know, I just realized Toph probably saw all of this from inside," Aang said, laughing awkwardly, already embarrassed.<p>

Katara laughed too. "Oh, man, you're right. And she wouldn't keep her mouth shut, either."

"Nope."

"Well," Katara sighed, grinning. "Might as well go in and face them now, right?" She took hold of his tattooed hand, entwining her fingers with his.

Aang looked worried suddenly. "Do you think Sokka will be okay with this?"

"Sure, why wouldn't he be?"

"What if he's mad?" Aang didn't like the idea of Sokka shunning him for stealing away his baby sister.

Katara gave Aang one of her _looks_. "Aang, come on. What's the worst that could happen? Besides, don't you think _I _could beat some sense into Sokka myself if I had to?"

"Yeah, I know you could. Pretty badly too, probably."

"Then don't worry," she grinned. Without allowing him to protest any further, she clasped his hand firmly and dragged him back inside.

"Hey everyone! The Love Bunnies are coming back inside!" Toph's voice came to their ears before they'd even opened the door. Aang and Katara both blushed, and both knew she'd said it extra loudly just for them.

"Ah, there you two are!" cried Uncle Iroh jovially. "I was afraid your tea would get cold. There's nothing more tragic in this world than cold tea."

"Well, well, well." Sokka tapped his fingers on the table, shaking his head at them like a father about to give a lecture. "Look who we have here."

"Katara started it!" Aang blurted quickly.

Katara glared at him.

"I mean," Aang chuckled awkwardly, "not that I wouldn't have if she hadn't, because it was really nice. Very enjoyable."

Sokka raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not that I enjoyed it _too _much," Aang added hastily. "It was a totally appropriate amount of enjoyment." He felt himself digging himself into a terrible hole.

"Just shut up, Twinkle Toes, before you say something _really _dumb," Toph laughed. Suki, Zuko and Mai were all unsuccessfully repressing spurts of laughter. Uncle simply seated himself comfortably in a chair, ready to watch the entertainment play out.

Sokka, however, retained his faux-paternal air solemnly.

"Aang," said Sokka gravely. "I must say, I'm not yet entirely comfortable with this situation."

"Oh, lighten up, Sokka," Katara laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Shush! I'm lecturing!" Sokka glared at her briefly, then continued. "As you know, Katara is my little sister – "

"_What_? You two are related? Why was I not informed?" Toph exclaimed sarcastically, grinning.

"Excuse me!" Sokka turned his glare at the Earthbender, forgetting that she couldn't see it. "However," he went on, "seeing as how Katara has not been known to have the greatest taste in men – " He coughed – "_ahem, _Jet!"

"Hey!" Katara scowled at him indignantly.

"I have to say, I couldn't have chosen anyone better for her myself," Sokka finished, completely ignoring her. "So, I approve."

Aang looked relieved. "Thanks, Sokka. That means a lot."

"_However_!" Sokka raised his arm dramatically, casting a severe look at Aang. "You ever, _ever_ do anything to hurt my sister, and I _will_ make sure you regret it. Got it, Avatar?"

"Uh…" Aang's eyes shifted uncomfortably for a moment, although he and everyone else knew that he could beat any of them – Sokka included – in a fight. "Yes?"

"Good," Sokka smiled, satisfied with himself, seating himself firmly in his chair and picking up his paintbrush again.

"Gosh, this is more entertaining than Zuko trying to play the Tsungi Horn," Toph snickered.

"Hey! Why is that so entertaining?" Zuko cried defensively. "I'm not _that _bad at it!"

"I don't know, Zuko," Uncle chuckled. "Music has never really been your strong suit."

"Yeah," Aang grinned, laughing as well. "I think the fact that Momo runs and hides whenever you just touch a musical instrument is kind of a bad sign."

"_Anyway_," Zuko rolled his eyes. "At least I can paint."

"Hey!" Sokka protested, waving his paintbrush indignantly. "No need for insults, sir! I didn't even say anything about how horrible you are at the Tsungi Horn. And anyway, I have been told my painting skills have much improved!"

"Yeah, Gran Gran told you that, when you were six," Katara said.

"And your skills haven't changed since then," Toph added eagerly.

Aang and Suki laughed loudly.

"_Ha, ha_," Sokka glared at them. "Why do you take such delight in mocking me?"

"You make it so easy," Katara and Toph said simultaneously. They both instantly burst into laughter, and a moment later everyone else – Sokka included – joined them. It would have been difficult for an outsider, coming across the scene, to imagine that these were the very same people that, only a week ago, had been instrumental players in the final battle for the fate of the world.

When they all finally were winding down to contented sighs, wiping away little tears of laughter, Sokka's face suddenly lit up. He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and began to paint furiously.

"What now, Sokka?" Katara asked.

"Shush!" Sokka demanded, sticking out his tongue in concentration. "I'm painting you and Aang. It's gonna be great, you'll see."

"Um," Aang murmured, scratching his head sheepishly. "You don't need to do that, Sokka. It's okay, really."

"Did I ask you, Arrow Boy?" Sokka said. "This is as much for me as it is for you. You know, the more I think about you two, the more I think I like it. It could be a story for the ages! Aang and Katara, Katara and Aang. Kataang!"

Aang and Katara raised their eyebrows at one another. "Kataang?" they said together, and neither sounded too delighted.

"Yeah!" Sokka grinned eagerly. "Every good couple needs an abbreviation. Ooh, I think the Ember Island Players are gonna get some new material soon! I can see it already – the long-awaited sequel to 'The Boy in the Iceberg': 'Kataang!' It could even be a musical!"

"As long as Zuko's not in it," Toph said.

"Boy, Sokka," Aang said, a little uncomfortably. "When you approve, you _really _approve."

"What can I say?" Sokka shrugged. "I guess I'm just a romantic guy."

Suki chuckled to herself. Sokka glared at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," she grinned. "So what's _our_ abbreviation, Sokka?"

Sokka paused for a moment, staring into space pensively. "Uh… Sokki? Sukka? Sokia?"

"Never mind," Suki laughed.

"And then Zuko and Mai would be – "

"No, thanks," Zuko said quickly. "If you say it out loud, I'll never be able to forget it."

* * *

><p>And so the evening drew on, and it was time for the friends to disperse at last. Zuko and Mai were to catch the last train out of Ba Sing Se, to be on their way back to the Fire Nation for Zuko to officially begin his rule as the Firelord. Before leaving, Zuko pulled Aang aside to shake his hand.<p>

"See you around, Avatar," he said.

"Bye, Zuko," Aang smiled at him. They were friends now, but there was still something slightly formal in the way they addressed one another. Perhaps it was merely the journey they had taken together, from enemies to colleagues. Perhaps it was the roles they had been given here, at the end of their respective journeys: the Avatar and the Firelord. Perhaps it was the sense of Destiny they both could not help but feel, that they'd been heading toward this end from the very beginning, and had followed parallel paths to get there, never realizing that they were traveling just alongside each other the entire way.

"Don't forget to visit," Zuko reminded him.

"Of course," Aang nodded. "I'm sure we'll see each other all the time. Good luck with the Firelord stuff."

"Good luck with the Avatar stuff," Zuko grinned. He glanced off to the side, where Katara and Toph where chatting with Uncle about something or other. He realized that he and Aang had something else in common now – they'd both been scarred by Azula's lightning, and they'd both been healed by Katara. Zuko had no doubt that he would not have lived to be here now if Katara hadn't been there during that final battle.

"You've got yourself a really great girl now, Avatar," he said, smiling.

"More like she got me," Aang shrugged, blushing again.

"Either way," Zuko chuckled. "You've got each other now. So take care of her."

"I will. Always," Aang nodded, smiling.

They bid each other farewell, but not for the last time. In the morning, the rest of them would go their separate ways: Sokka, Katara and Aang back to the South Pole at last, where it had all started so long ago; Suki back to Kyoshi Island; and Toph back to her parents' home, to hopefully reconcile with them.

But for now, it was time to rest. Toph headed to bed; Sokka and Suki sat with Uncle by the fire inside; and Aang and Katara lingered outside, drawn by the openness and freedom of the starry sky. Somewhere nearby, Appa was snoring thunderously. And Aang took Katara's hand and held it contentedly in his own.

So here, at the end, there was a beginning. And for now, Destiny sat back and smiled.


	5. Katara, Alone

_As has been previously indicated, although the somewhat fluffy chapters preceding this one ARE part of the story, this is where the plot really gets going... So if, for whatever reason, you skipped the first few chapters, the most important things in them were these:_

_A) Katara had lots of doubts and conflict about her feelings for Aang, which were seemingly resolved (or were they...?)  
>B) Zuko asked Mai to marry him sometime, and she said "Sure"<br>C) Aang was confused about Katara (nothing new there) and thought there must be something wrong with him, and that there might be something going on with Zuko and Katara, which Zuko denied, though he also showed some large amounts of respect for her. And also...  
>D) Sokka, first awkwardly and then enthusiastically, came to the conclusion that he approved of Aang dating his sister.<em>

_There you go._

_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters of "Avatar: the Last Airbender." Though if I COULD own one, I'd probably pick Sokka or Aang. I tend to like happy, dorky guys... Oh, but I do so love Zuko, too! I can't pick! Gah! *slaps self* I'm okay._

* * *

><p><strong>KATARA, ALONE<strong>

_THREE YEARS LATER..._

It was her eighteenth birthday today.

She wouldn't have remembered, except that Sokka, Suki, her father, Gran Gran, and Master Pakku (or Gramp Gramp, as Sokka _still _insisted on calling him) had attempted a surprise party for her. Cake, presents, decorations – the works.

Katara had been returning home to the hut she now shared with Gran Gran and Master Pakku, brushing the flurries of South Pole snow from the folds of her Water Tribe coat and out of her long brown hair. Despite the heavy clothing, she'd been numb with cold; but she'd barely noticed. She was used to it, and as usual, she'd been lost in other thoughts. So she nearly screamed in astonishment when she entered the hut and was pummeled by the collective "SURPRISE!"

It was a nice gesture. Katara had done her best to enjoy it, for their sake. But eventually she'd wandered outside, finding her place on the wall of the town where she'd lately taken to sitting every night, staring blankly out at the aurora. She tried to remember what it was like to feel wonder and awe again.

Sokka found her. It didn't take long. It seemed older brothers generally had a built-in radar tracking system for their younger sisters. Sokka was nineteen already, a fully grown swordsman and Water Tribe warrior; and if not for Hakoda's graying hair, it would have been nearly impossible now to tell father from son. Katara was glad he'd come alone.

He sat down beside her on the wall, watching her anxiously. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, but didn't look at him. She was in the process of hypnotizing herself with the lights. It helped her to forget.

"Are you okay?" Sokka asked finally.

Katara couldn't respond. She was too deep in the process of mesmerizing herself to open her mouth without considerable effort. She didn't know how to answer anyway. She _was _okay – she was breathing, she was healthy, she hadn't been feeling that horrible nausea so much recently. But then, she wasn't okay. Not really.

Her mind was too tired to decide what to say, so at last she mustered a small grunt as a response. It would suffice.

Sokka took one of her gloved hands in his and held it for a few moments.

"I know you miss him," he said finally. "Everyone does. It's so weird. I still can't believe he's just – _gone_."

Katara's catatonic state almost instantly transformed into a tempest.

"Don't talk like that!" she stormed. "You act like he's dead!"

Sokka's eyes grew wide for a moment, surprised and dismayed at her sudden outburst. He let go of her hands.

Katara immediately felt ashamed of herself. Sokka hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She was just so stupid! She was always doing things like that, always having unfair outbursts at people who hadn't done anything wrong, simply because they'd touched one of her sensitive private nerves. What was wrong with her, anyway? If she could just have some self-control, she could stop herself. She could have stopped herself from hurting him. She could have stopped Aang from leaving –

And there it was. The name she so desperately avoided thinking. And with it came the face, the bright eyes, the laugh – every moment, from the first glimpse of his tattoos glowing in the iceberg, to the anguished expression in his eyes when he'd left her and never returned. All in a deluge.

Katara shuddered and succumbed suddenly to violent tears. She crumpled into her brother's arms, and Sokka squeezed her, as if to keep her from shattering into a million pieces.

"I'm here, Katara," he said gently. "Just cry. I'm here. You're not alone."

But she was. She was completely alone.

Sokka was only there half the time these days, the rest of his time being spent with Suki on Kyoshi Island. They had been both training new Kyoshi Warriors there, and helping to rebuild the Southern Water Tribe's culture here. And between those duties, Sokka had been known to take frequent vacations to Master Piandao's mansion in the Fire Nation, fine-tuning his skills with the blade.

Hakoda, Gran Gran and Pakku were with Katara most of the time – although her father and Pakku were usually busy with the rebuilding projects and the training of new Waterbenders. There'd been eight of them born here, just in the past three years, and always more returning home from wherever they'd been held captive by the Fire Nation during the war. Katara was no longer the only Waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe.

But she was alone, nevertheless.

She'd been full of ambition, not long ago. She and Sokka had both talked, wide-eyed with shining dreams, about the day that the Southern Water Tribe would have a city as grand as that of their sister tribe in the North Pole, or better. Katara had devoted all her energy to doing everything she could to help make her culture great once again.

But that was before. When she still had Aang.

Now, she'd lost all interest in everything. The world had become a dark place once again, and the sun refused to rise for her, no matter how she longed for it.

Of course, he'd left her before. Many times. For the past three years he'd played his part as the Avatar, which – even with the threat of the Firelord gone – was a constant duty. He was always having to make appearances, to help some unfortunate town with its troubles, to help Zuko quell the small rebellions that had sprung up among the remnant of the Firelord's followers, to help rebuild the world. Luckily, though, he had Appa, and could fly from the South Pole to Kyoshi Island to Omashu to Ba Sing Se to the Fire Nation and back to the South Pole all in less than a month. He was always retreading the steps of their old journey, and was the designated messenger between all the friends.

Katara had never minded. She had gone with him sometimes – but she was most needed here, at home, while Aang was needed _everywhere_. He'd never minded, either; he loved helping people. And he was driven by the need to make amends for the hundred-year period that he'd been gone, the need to restore the Avatar's honor.

As often as he could, though – rarely more than a week or two at a time, for Aang had trouble staying away too long – he would return to the South Pole. And Katara would watch the skies, waiting until she saw the telltale while speck of Appa soaring through the clouds. Then she would stand here, on this wall, in the place she now sat with Sokka – she would stand and wait to meet him when he landed. Soon he'd be off again, but always to return in another week or so.

Thus it had been for three years, and Katara could not recall a time she'd ever been happier in her life. The world was at peace, and Aang was hers, and no matter what else happened, he always came back.

But only two months ago – so short a time, yet the happiness of those days seemed like a memory so distant she could barely recall it – it had all come to an abrupt and unexpected end. The undoing had really begun about a week into Aang's last visit, on a certain evening that – at the time – had seemed as close to perfect as possible.

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>sure <em>you're ready?" Aang asked.

She tried not to laugh. He looked like he was going to have a heart-attack.

"Are you okay?" she asked, laughing despite her efforts not to.

He managed a feeble chuckle, his eyes wide and anxious. He was tall now (Katara had not been able to stop rejoicing when he'd finally surpassed her in height – she'd always hoped to be with someone tall); the baby fat in his face had mostly faded; his boyish muscles had developed into those of a young man. But there in his eyes – especially now – he was as much of a child as ever.

This whole thing was really her idea. She'd made sure to find some excuse to be out late this evening, so Gran Gran wouldn't worry. She'd picked the place – a little cave just outside of the town, out of the way from the frigid wind and snow, and warm enough once you had a fire going. She'd found it when she was a little girl, and had come here often whenever she wanted to be alone – secretly tinkering with Waterbending, missing her mother, and hiding from Sokka when he made her mad. It was _her _place; she'd never shown it to anyone before. But now, it would be _their _place.

Besides, it would have been impossible to get away with something like this at home, with Gran Gran and Pakku around all the time. They would not have approved – especially Pakku.

Katara had planned every detail, making sure it was all exactly right. Actually convincing Aang to come had been the hardest part, though it was really only a matter of overcoming his nerves. He, apparently, had not quite overcome them; but at least he was there.

She took hold of his tattooed hand and led him further inside. His hand was shaking, but not from the cold. He was petrified.

"Katara," he began again, his voice quivering a little, "I don't know – I mean – are you _really _sure – ?"

She drew him in and kissed him.

"Aang," she whispered gently, still tempted to laugh at him – but she resisted this time. Suddenly, she was feeling nervous, too; but she wouldn't show it. Just being in this place, _her _place, and not being alone made her feel self-conscious. But excited, too. She was glad to finally be able to share it with someone.

"Yeah?" He whispered as well, because she had. His breaths were coming in little bursts.

"Stop thinking so much," she ordered him, and kissed him again, deeply.

Avatar or not, in his essence Aang was nothing more than a sixteen-year old boy. And she was the dark-skinned, blue-eyed beauty he'd been in love with since he was twelve. It wasn't hard for her to get him to stop thinking.

"Okay," he sighed blankly, in a happy daze.

Smiling shyly, she led him to the place she'd prepared near the fire – warm and dry, with plenty of blankets layered over the hard stone floor. She traced the line of his tattoos from his knuckles all the way up to his shoulders with her fingers, raising goose-bumps on his skin. Both of them were blushing furiously.

Aang wondered how she could be so collected about this. For his own part, all he really hoped was that he didn't get carried away and say something stupid like, "Baby, you're my Forever Girl!" Or accidentally slip into Avatar state. Man, would _that _be a disaster.

She tangled her fingers up in his. The light of the fire traced out the form of her face, smiling at him in a way that made his heart want to explode. He'd never felt more clumsy or awkward in his life, and hoped desperately that it didn't show.

"I love you," he sputtered quietly, partly out of nervousness and the dire need to say something or burst, and partly because at that moment he felt it was especially true and she really needed to know.

She laughed, and didn't say a word, just pulled him in close for another kiss. After that, there was not much more talking between the two of them – just a shy word here or there. But mostly it was all breathing and blushing and anxiety and excitement and arms and legs and pain and wonder and Katara and Aang, and they found that they moved one another like the divine Koi fish in the North Pole's spirit oasis, always circling. Black and white, Moon and Ocean, Push and Pull, Yin and Yang.

_I like you, but more than normal_, Aang had once told her, long ago when he was still too young to fully understand the details of how this sort of thing worked, but still old enough to know that this – this was what made the world keep circling.

* * *

><p>Gran Gran never asked where Katara had been all night. Neither did Master Pakku, although when Katara ran to meet him after breakfast to begin their usual Waterbending classes for the new students, he scolded her for being late, and finished it off with a very suspicious look. Katara wondered if perhaps Gran Gran had commanded him not to say anything to her about it – she was sure that Gran Gran would have noticed her absence, and Aang's, and would probably put two and two together.<p>

After her beginner Waterbending class was over, and her young students had departed, Katara meandered through the village streets to meet up with her father and the others who were all busy with work on the new canal. Sokka and Hakoda had drawn up the plans for it together – eventually it would bring water straight through the center of the town, a sort of main street. Hakoda smiled at his daughter as she approached.

"My goodness, you look extra happy today," he commented. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing really," Katara said quickly, hoping he wouldn't see her blushing. "I, uh – I just think it's a particularly nice day. Don't you think so?"

He glanced toward the sky, which was the purest, most profound crystalline blue imaginable. "It definitely is. Come on, Katara – we shouldn't let it go to waste, right?"

"Katara!" The voice splashed happily into her heart, and she instantly whirled around. There was Appa, with Aang on his shaggy back, hovering through the air to alight nearby on his six furry legs. Aang leaped off before Appa had landed, and floated to the ground as if he weighed no more than a sheet of paper. Katara took one look at him and realized that, if she was beaming anywhere near as much as he was, it was no wonder her father had said something about it.

"Afternoon, Chief Hakoda," Aang glowed, bowing politely to her father.

Hakoda returned the bow. "Nice to see you, as usual, Aang. I didn't think anyone could look in a better mood than Katara does, but you've just proven me wrong."

Aang blushed – in a painfully obvious way – and rubbed his head awkwardly. "Well… it _is _a particularly nice day, don't you think?"

Hakoda laughed, glancing between the two of them with clear amusement in his eyes. "Apparently it's even better than I thought. I'd love to chat, Aang, but I've got a lot of work to do, and anyway I know you didn't come here to talk about the weather with me."

"Would you mind if I stole Katara, for a few minutes?" Aang asked.

"Fine with me," Hakoda said. He placed a gloved hand on Katara's shoulder. "Just come find us when you're ready, Katara. We'll most likely be here all day, so there's no hurry."

"Thanks, Dad," Katara smiled. "I'll be back soon."

"Take care of her, Avatar," Hakoda nodded at Aang.

"Always!" Aang nodded back. Then he eagerly took hold of Katara's hand. "Come on, Katara! I need to talk to you about something really important."

"What's going on?" Katara asked, laughing, though she wasn't sure why. He didn't answer immediately, just lifted her into his arms and launched himself off the ground with a jet of air, landing gracefully on Appa's back and setting her down beside him.

"Yip yip!" he cried, and the enormous bison lifted the two of them into the air. Within moments, the South Pole village looked like nothing but a pile of toy houses on the ground.

Katara leaned against him, enjoying the contrast of his warmth with the icy wind that tugged at her hair and clothing.

"What's going on, Aang?" she finally asked again, after thoroughly savoring a few moments of airy silence.

"I've been wanting to ask you something for a while," he said, very slowly, testing out each word carefully before he allowed it to leave his mouth. He glanced at her, and his serene gray eyes were brighter than the white sunlight. "I've been thinking about a lot of things recently – really big things. And… well… Here, this is for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small that winked with sunlight. Katara's hand instinctively shot up to touch her neck, reassuring herself that her necklace was still there. It was.

"That looks just like my necklace," she said, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"It's not quite the same," he said quickly, showing her. "See? I made it a little longer, so that you can wear them both. And there's an inscription on the back – "

"I – I don't understand," Katara stammered, though her heart was pounding.

"Well," his words began to gush out, "Remember how Master Pakku made that necklace for your Gran Gran when they were both betrothed almost sixty years ago? Wait, of course you remember – that's a dumb question. What I meant was, _I _remembered, so I made this one for you, because I know it's a Water Tribe thing for girls to wear the necklace to show that they're… engaged… and… "

The gush halted. Now his words tripped out, tumbling into the air.

"I mean… I know… I know I'm not a Water Tribe - person - I'm an Airbender… I mean, you already know that… But… _you _are - a Water Tribe person, I mean - so I thought I should… uh… I mean… ah, man, I've messed this all up! Hold on, I think I need to start over again – "

"Aang." Katara sat bolt upright, staring intently at him, outwardly unmoving, inwardly twisting into knots. "Are you – are you asking me to _marry _you?"

Aang looked directly at her, and seemed to waver for the briefest moment. Then, from somewhere, he found his resolution and spoke with confidence. "I know I've sort of asked you before, but we were both joking about it back then. This time, I really mean it. Katara – everything I've ever done that's actually been worth something, I did for you. I know I won't ever need anything else in my life, if you'll do me the honor of wearing this necklace and saying that you'll marry me."

_Oh._ Katara's thoughts stammered.

_Oh. He's really serious_.

_Oh_.

She blinked dumbly at him for a long time. So long that the empty sound of the wind blowing around them became a little uncomfortable.

Then a million thoughts began storming through her head simultaneously, in a hurricane, rushing to process the situation. _Aang – me – marriage – forever_.

_Forever._

She might have thought only of how Aang always made everything seem brighter, how Aang laughed like unbridled joy, how he'd never fully grown into his big ears and it was adorable, how terribly she always missed him when he was gone, how jealous she always felt imagining him meeting other girls in his travels, how he'd transformed her life completely from the first day he'd crawled out of that iceberg. She might have thought about what an honor it would be – to be the Avatar's wife. She might have thought of how happy he'd be, and how happy his happiness would make her, if she were to simply say 'yes,' right now.

But she didn't think of those things. To her own surprise, she found herself recoiling – cringing. It was an uncomfortable emotion she couldn't remember having felt so deeply since that evening of the play on Ember Island years ago. Aang, coming _too_ close, being _too_ open, tearing her apart in ten directions without giving her a chance to breathe. And the worst part was, he didn't mean to do it. He just _did_. He loved her too much, and she didn't know what to do with it. She wanted suddenly, against her usual feelings, to run away from him. Distance was more comfortable. She understood herself; she could handle herself; she could handle being on her own. What she couldn't handle was the idea of being completely _not _on her own. It scared her – there was too much, too much at risk, too much that could be lost, too much she could never recover from if she let herself fall into that vulnerable position.

_Forever_. No escape.

She couldn't look at him. She could feel herself tensing up with deep annoyance that she couldn't run away, not while they were up there on Appa. He'd done it on purpose – trapped her, where there was no escape.

Aang's expression slowly dissolved from sincere and hopeful, to severely concerned. "Katara?"

"I'm thinking," she said sharply.

The look on his face told her that this was not quite the reaction he'd been expecting. It made her feel awful, knowing what she was doing to him. But that only hardened her against him more – it was his fault! He'd put her in this position! Why was he making her hurt him? Why couldn't he have just left everything the way it was: easy, working smoothly – why try to fix what wasn't broken?

Despite how much he'd grown up, really, he was still just _Aang_. Still a little clumsy, still a little lazy, still inclined to play with animals and goof off with Sokka in his spare time.

But then – he _was_ the Avatar, the most powerful person in the world, the Keeper of Balance, the Great Bridge between their world and the spirit world. That was a big deal.

But then again, he was the youngest Avatar in recorded history. After all, if it hadn't been for the Fire Nation's conquest of the world and the hundred years he spent in that iceberg – if he'd lived a normal Avatar's life – he wouldn't have even been told his identity until he was sixteen! There must have been a reason that the Avatars were never identified until they were sixteen. They weren't prepared to handle it yet. And he was sixteen now – was he prepared to handle this? Really? Because there in his eyes – especially now – he was as much of a child as ever.

"Why are you upset?" he asked, clearly bewildered, flushing and frowning simultaneously. "Is there something wrong? I mean, I thought – "

"Something wrong!" she scoffed, harsher than she meant to be. "Well, Aang, frankly… Yes, there's a lot wrong. Could you please take me back to the ground now?"

"Wait, hold on – I'm really confused," he said. "You have to talk to me. What's so wrong?"

"A lot of things!" she cried, losing control of her annoyance more and more every moment. "Aang, did you even think about this?"

"I thought about it a lot, actually," he said defensively.

"Have you considered everything it would mean?" she demanded. "I mean, think about it! How will we live? You can't just stop being the Avatar!"

"I… wasn't planning on it – "

"And I can't just up and leave my family, my people, here in the South Pole to go whizzing around the world with you for the rest of my life! Suppose I want a family? Did you think about that?"

"I want a family too, Katara – "

"I can't raise an infant on the back of a flying bison!"

"You're making it sound ridiculous – "

"And what would I do instead? Stay here without you? I can't raise kids alone here in the South Pole with you always gone, doing your stupid Avatar thing!"

"But Katara – "

"No, Aang. I don't think you thought about any of those things. I don't think you thought about it at all. You were just following your feelings, thinking, 'well, we love each other, we're happy, so, hey! we should get married!' Isn't that right?"

"Katara, could you just listen – "

"Sometimes I don't even know what to do with you! It's like you've got this idealized picture of us in your head – Yin and Yang, right? That's us! It's Destiny! Right, Aang?"

Aang didn't speak or look at her. He'd decided it would be best to just let her finish ranting, get it out of her system. But he clenched his jaw against her biting sarcasm.

"You know what," she went on, impassioned, "you're as bad as all of those people in Aunt Wu's village. She told them their fortune, and they believed every word she said, no matter how irrational it was. They were all relying just on superstition and fate, instead of their own brains. You just can't see things practically. You're so convinced that it's our Destiny that you just can't see it won't work!"

She took another breath, ready to continue, but realized she was out of things to say. So she shut her mouth, wallowing in the residual fire of her tirade, glaring at the sky because she couldn't glare at him.

The silence was crushing. Even Appa seemed a little uncomfortable. Katara hoped quietly that Aang didn't think to point out that, at one point, she'd been one of the most loyal and irrational of Aunt Wu's followers.

"Are you finished?" he finally asked.

She grunted in response.

"Even though you seem to think I haven't thought this through," he began, so softly that she could barely him over the wind, "believe it or not, I _have_. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were – !" she protested, but he cut her off.

"Please let me talk," he said, in an unusually stern tone that convinced her keep quiet and give him his turn. "You're right about a lot of things," he went on. "But you're also wrong, because it _would _work. I don't think it would be easy – but that doesn't matter to me. I want to be with you forever, even if it's hard. I could never be happy with my life otherwise. If you want that too, then things would work out, one way or another. And I think you know that, Katara. So, if you just _don't _want that, then that's all you need to tell me. I don't need to hear all the excuses."

Katara didn't say anything for a long time, and couldn't look at him. Though she knew, from what she saw in the corner of her eyes, that he glanced at her every few moments, waiting. Waiting for her.

She felt drained, and dirty, and demolished. She couldn't imagine how _he_ felt. For a very small moment, she saw the entire conversation from his point of view, and had a vague idea that she'd done something awful to him – she'd taken his love, offered simply and generously, and thrown it back in his face in terror. For a very small moment, the notion that she was being unusually short-sighted and selfish floated across the surface of her mind.

But it was gone before she'd got a full grip on it, and her anger – folding her tightly up into a small, defensible shell of herself – kept its hold. She didn't budge. She was right. And even if she wasn't – she didn't care.

Aang sighed wearily at last, realizing it was no use to wait.

"I guess - I'm still really confused, though," he said softly. "I thought we were happy."

"We were," she mumbled, too quietly for Aang to hear. "Take me down now, Aang."

He flicked Appa's reigns, and the bison began to slowly descend.

"So… what does this mean?" he asked hesitantly. "You definitely don't want to?"

"I don't know," she said icily.

"Do you want to think about it for a while?"

"I don't know."

"Are we – I mean – " He was struggling with the words, wincing as if each one burned him as it came out. "Do you want us to – not – be – together?"

"I don't _know_, Aang!" she growled. She couldn't bear any more of this, and felt simultaneously like crying for several hours and destroying a town single-handedly. "I just – I just need to be by myself for a little while, okay?"

Her salvation – solid ground – was quickly rising up to meet them. Even before Appa had landed, she jumped, landing solidly on her feet but not nearly as gracefully as an Airbender. She fled that place so quickly, it was as if the ground carried her away from him, rather than her own two feet and her own screaming fears that he would try to follow her.

But she needn't have feared. He wasn't planning on following her.

* * *

><p>To Katara's relief, by the next day it was time for Aang to leave again. He'd been headed for Omashu, to visit his old friend King Bumi. He'd promised to be back in five days.<p>

_Five days_.

Katara remembered. She couldn't stop remembering.

She'd taken for granted that his promise would kept, as it had always been. She'd even been glad to see him leave, so she could finally have a little space to breathe and sort things out. When he came to say good-bye to everyone that morning, she'd made herself busy out behind the house, trying to perfect some new, extremely important Waterbending technique she wanted to show Master Pakku later. Everyone else said good-bye to him, wished him a safe journey. But Katara hadn't even glanced in his direction. He'd be back, she said to herself. She'd talk to him then.

He'd come to say good-bye to her, waiting, mumbling something about how he couldn't wait to see how much progress they made on the canal while he was gone, and he would tell Bumi she said hello, and that he hoped everything stayed good until he got back.

She'd kept silent, pretending he wasn't there. She'd told herself that it was for his own good, that maybe it would get him thinking while he was gone. Truthfully, she realized later, she'd been afraid.

He'd sighed at last in defeat.

_See you soon, Katara_. She couldn't stop hearing those words.

Then he'd leaned in and given her a quick kiss on the cheek, before she could stop him. _I love you_.

Then she blinked, and he was gone. He was on Appa's back, and the two of them – bison and Airbender – were nothing but a white speck disappearing into the cloudy sky.

Perhaps she'd got some kind of dreadful intuition – or perhaps her mind had just finally cleared itself – but either way, in that moment, she'd suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than for him to come back.

_I love you, too_, she'd whispered, but it was too late for him to hear it.

The nausea had begun the next morning.

At first she thought she'd eaten some rotten fish, or caught some kind of stomach flu. She hadn't thought it was anything to worry about, so she didn't tell anyone except Gran Gran. But somehow, as she was unwillingly purging the contents of her stomach, the sickness also seemed to purge the contents of her head. All her angry doubts, uncomfortable fears – vomited out, leaving her with only a queasy, empty stomach full of guilt.

She hadn't been able to stop seeing his face – that shattered look in his eyes when he'd left.

_Why didn't I say something to him? How could I have treated him so badly? What's wrong with me!_

Two months later, these questions still beat inside her – an endless, torturous rhythm with no resolution.

The more she'd thought about their awful conversation in the air, the more that one thought – the one she hadn't quite got a grip of before – began to take shape. She felt disgusted – all those excuses – so short-sighted and cowardly – how could she have done that to him? Had she lost her mind entirely? It was Aang! The one that always made everything seem brighter, that laughed like unbridled joy, that still didn't quite fit his big ears, that had stumbled clumsily in and turned her world inside out. He was _hers_. And she _crushed_ him!

She began to see that all her protests, though they'd seemed like weapons of pure logic to her during their conversation in the sky, were only excuses, just as Aang had said they were. Excuses – because she hadn't wanted to simply say "no." If she'd simply said "no," she'd be forced to ask herself, "why?" Why not? She loved him, didn't she? Of course – he was Aang. So why not?

Because she was scared of letting him in so completely. Because the idea of being more than just Katara made her want to curl into a ball and hide. Because the last thing she thought she needed was another attachment, another potential heartbreak – like her mother. It was safer on her own. She only had herself to lose.

She only had herself to lose.

But – it was too late anyway, wasn't it? She'd already let him in. She was already attached, far beyond hope of giving him up. What was she thinking? She was afraid of _not_ being on her own, because it was risky! But what about being on her own, forever? That was guaranteed emptiness and heartache. She already loved him - it was too late to avoid it. The thought of Aang going on with his life, without her – of herself, going on with her life, alone – of destroying him and his innocent heart – of hearing that he married someone else, as he surely would eventually; he had a loving nature, after all, and there was bound to be another girl out there more than willing to sacrifice a little comfort for his sake –

No.

She couldn't allow it. She couldn't let him go. She would regret it for the rest of her life.

By the end of the second day after his departure, she'd changed her mind completely and decided that as soon as he returned – the very instant that he landed on that wall – she would be there to throw her arms around him and tell him she was sorry, that she'd only briefly lost her mind but now she'd found it again, and that there was no way he was getting away from her again without marrying her immediately.

But he'd never returned. Not after five days. Not after a week. After two weeks had passed, messengers from King Bumi arrived at the South Pole, asking about him – for apparently he'd never arrived in Omashu.

A small panic had ensued at this revelation. Immediately messengers had been sent to every corner of the world, and the replies came back swiftly and hopelessly. Zuko and Mai hadn't seen him in the Fire Nation for months; Toph hadn't felt his uniquely light footfalls anywhere near her town for some time; Sokka and Suki on Kyoshi Island had assumed he was still in the South Pole.

It was about a month after his disappearance that Katara's worst fears had been realized at last. Appa returned to the South Pole, but without a rider. Aang had vanished.

The rumor quickly spread across the four nations that the Avatar was missing, _again_. Zuko had even offered a hefty reward for anyone who had news of his whereabouts. Everyone in the world knew the Avatar's face by now, and he couldn't have gone anywhere without being recognized. But there was nothing – only a few idiots who came claiming to have sighted him, but their "news" only turned out to be misguided attempts to collect the reward. Zuko had also hired June the Bounty Hunter to track him down again – but, like in the days before the battle with Firelord Ozai, there was no trace of him to be found. For the second time, he had somehow ceased to exist.

Katara's nausea had not diminished during the two months that had followed his disappearance. Worse than that, she'd lost joy in everything, and had begun to spend as much time as possible by herself. Wandering alone in the South Pole's frozen wasteland. It was dangerous to go out there alone, she knew – she could get lost in a blizzard, or trapped in the ice, or attacked by a wild animal. But she just didn't care.

Sometimes, she would make attempts at Waterbending again, to try to lift her spirits. But it was useless. Something in her drew her to icebergs, though they were always in perilous, unstable places. She would sometimes try to Waterbend them entirely out of the water. But more often, she found herself merely staring at them, as if she would find Aang inside of one again if she just looked hard enough. After all, that's where he'd been the first time he disappeared.

Maybe it was some kind of miserable loop of events they were stuck in. Or maybe Aang was nothing more than an evanescent phantom, a wild spirit who appeared for a time to light up the world, and then disappeared like the fleeting sun setting in the evening. Maybe all of his time with her had depended on how she had answered that one crucial question; and she'd answered wrong, so now he was gone, forever out of her grasp, and she could never get a second chance.

People were already whispering that he was dead. The talk must have been much worse in cultural hubs like Ba Sing Se – but even here at the South Pole, Katara had to endure the rumors, resisting the urge to pummel those gossipers straight into a coma.

Yet even she, when helping Gran Gran deliver the village's babies as she'd done for years, could not help searching the face of each new infant. If Aang _was_ dead, everyone knew the next Avatar would be a Waterbender. So she began to dread each new birth in the village, illogically fearing that the next one would somehow emerge from the womb with arrow tattoos and bright gray eyes, asking her to go penguin sledding.

* * *

><p>And now, it was her birthday. She was eighteen. She wouldn't have remembered – she didn't care enough. Now she was crying on the wall, in the very spot she had so often awaited Aang's return. She'd forgotten her birthday, but she did remember that it was only three weeks from today, four years ago, that she and Sokka had come across that iceberg that had changed everyone's lives.<p>

"Katara?" Sokka's voice managed to penetrate the heavy perimeter of shadows around her consciousness. She had lost touch with reality for a few moments, wandering in her thoughts, and found herself beginning to realign with time and space, feeling dizzy and lost and utterly abandoned even though her brother's arms were still anchoring her to earth. She had soaked his sleeve with her tears.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice quivering. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

She meant to apologize for shouting at him before, but she couldn't remember any other words. She could only repeat the phrase helplessly, hiccuping it out like a child who'd just broken her mother's favorite vase.

"You're going to be all right," Sokka said. "You know that, right?"

"No," she gasped, quaking. "No… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Sh," he said gently, cradling his little sister. "Just calm down. Calm down. It's okay. I've got you."

She dissolved into nonsense words for a few more minutes, draining every single tear from her body. At last, somehow, she did calm down. She lay curled up in Sokka's arms, quivering from such a violent cry, scrubbing excess fluid from her face. She felt shriveled and dry.

It must have been nearly an hour that the siblings sat there in silence, allowing the sorrow to take its toll and pass through like a storm. Sokka rubbed her arms. She shivered when the wind blew, and thought she might be fragile enough for it to blow her away. She never felt fragile – it was pathetic, and she hated it with all her might.

"Sokka," she finally said, her voice still tremoring slightly.

"Hm?"

"What could have happened to him?"

Sokka was silent for a moment, and sighed heavily. "If I knew that, don't you think we'd all be out there hunting him down?"

"I just don't get it," she said. "I mean – he's the Avatar. No one could have attacked him and won."

"I know," Sokka sighed again.

"And he wouldn't have gone anywhere without Appa," she added.

"And Appa wouldn't have just left him somewhere," Sokka agreed.

"How could this have happened?"

"It shouldn't have."

Katara closed her eyes tightly, trying to make herself disappear from the world and escape into whatever oblivion Aang had been stolen by.

"I didn't tell him good-bye," she confessed after a moment.

Sokka squeezed her. "Don't beat yourself up, Katara. I know you – you'll convince yourself that it's _your _fault somehow. This isn't some kind of cosmic punishment for something you did. It's just random. It would have happened, no matter if you'd said good-bye to him or not."

"But I didn't," she whispered, barely audible.

Sokka didn't reply, either because he hadn't heard her or because he didn't know what else to say to comfort her. He just kept holding her, quietly; he would have stayed with her all night, if she needed it. They both gazed rather indifferently up at the night sky, where the stars flickered rather indifferently back at them. Sokka began to whistle a tune that he and Katara had learned from Gran Gran when they were young. Katara was silent for so long that Sokka suspected she'd fallen asleep.

But Katara wasn't asleep – not yet, though she would have been grateful for it. She was thinking, thinking very hard, about a million difficult things. Another pebble had been dropped into the stormy pool of her mind, hardly noticeable amidst the tumult. She alone knew it was there. She thought about telling Sokka – she'd have to tell him eventually – but. But, maybe, not now. Maybe now was the time to sit still and breathe, and let the world pass by for a while without them.

She shifted slightly in her brother's arms, breathing, and slipped her gloved hand into her pocket. Her brother couldn't see that inside that pocket was a necklace, with an inscription, made just for her by a certain Airbender. He couldn't have seen that in her heart she'd made a silent oath with herself that she would carry it with her always, as long as there was still hope for his return – or even after all hope was gone.

* * *

><p><em>Oy, this chapter makes my soul hurt. And this is only the beginning!<em>


	6. The Tale of Aang

_DISCLAIMER: None of these characters or most of these settings or some lines of dialogue belong to me… wait, that was confusing… you get the idea._

* * *

><p><strong>THE TALE OF AANG<strong>

_TWO MONTHS EARLIER..._

This was all strangely familiar. And not in a good way.

The last time this sort of thing happened, he'd gotten himself trapped in an iceberg for a hundred years.

_Just stay calm_. He inhaled deeply – as deeply as he could with the gallons of cutting, icy rain that were currently assaulting his face – and after a few moments he finally let the air out in a gust, drying himself and Appa for a useless half-second before they were instantly soaked again with rain.

_Come on – you're the Avatar_, he reminded himself. _You faced Firelord Ozai alone, and beat him – and you were only thirteen then! You've ridden sea monsters and fought volcanoes. You've been struck by lightning, for crying out loud. And you managed to live through that_.

But that last thought, though it was intended to reassure, turned on him violently. The only reason he'd survived being struck by Azula's lightning bolt in Ba Sing Se was because Katara had been there to heal him.

But Katara wasn't here now. Katara didn't want him. He was alone.

Aang braced himself more tightly, focusing just on breathing.

_It's just a little storm_, he told himself. _Don't freak out. It's nothing but an insignificant, harmless little… hurricane._

Appa was moaning and growling unhappily, wrestling against the fierce winds while lightning cracked hatefully nearby.

"I know, Appa!" Aang shouted so that the bison could hear him over the sounds of the storm. He could hardly see his own steed's shaggy white head through the thick rain. "Just hold on. I'm thinking of something! We're only halfway to the Earth Kingdom, so there's nowhere to land. We just need to… strategize, or something."

He probably would have thought of something long ago, if his panic hadn't gotten the best of him. If he hadn't been so distracted thinking about Katara and how completely miserable she made him, he would have realized that they were about to fly straight into a storm, and taken some kind of evasive action before they got themselves trapped in the heart of it. If his fear of storms and his memory of that one particular storm that had nearly killed them both over a hundred years ago – which, even now, still sometimes haunted his dreams – had not stirred up all his most deeply-rooted terror, and all the guilt and pain associated with it, he would have come up with a way to save them both by now. He would have cleared a way for Appa to fly above the storm, or created a shield of water around them. He couldn't understand it; he'd never been like this. This should be nothing to him.

But he couldn't find his footing – he kept slipping. Losing his balance. He couldn't seem to solidify the water enough to make a shield, always losing it as some jolt or gust or splash of icy waves knocked him back. And the more he failed, the more frustrated and panicked he became, which only made it worse.

_What's wrong with me_? He thought. It was a question that had been hammering inside him ever since he'd left the South Pole. _What's wrong with me_?

His internal composure was ransacked. His external balance reeled.

He wasn't even sure he could clear a way for Appa to fly above the storm. He tried pushing aside the clouds and the inexhaustible rain – but there seemed to be no end. Inside the clouds, it was pure darkness, except when the lightning cracked heart-stoppingly close to them. Aang couldn't even be sure if they were flying in the right direction. Which way was up?

After attempting to fly through the clouds for what felt like several hours, he and Appa just emerged right back into the middle of the roaring rain and savage wind. It was useless. Aang couldn't help but wonder what the point of it all was.

He might save them if he tapped into the Avatar state. After all, he was in control of it now, wasn't he? He could just use it to get them to safety, and then turn it off.

But he had hardly used it at all in the past three years since the battle with Firelord Ozai, when he'd somehow opened his seventh Chakra and gained control of it. There had been little need for it since then.

Aang was sure that the best course of action would be to use the Avatar state now, to do _something_. He didn't know what, but the Avatar state always made him particularly creative. At any rate, it would be something better than what he was doing now, on his own.

_Just turn it on, get out of the storm, and turn it off_, he told himself, exhaling. Simple.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. In the strange condition he was in, so out of control of himself, he feared he might _not _be able to control it. It was terrible enough now, to know that he was off-balance and at the mercy of the storm. He couldn't allow that strange, cosmic nothingness to come over him. He couldn't allow his mind to dissolve into that dream state where he was no longer himself at all – where he was all the Avatars at once, and was merely watching himself from the outside. He couldn't give up control completely – not in a storm, at least.

After all, the last time he'd gone into Avatar state in the middle of a tempest alone, he had "saved" himself and Appa merely by freezing them both in a giant block of ice.

Again – definitely creative.

It had worked. But in retrospect, probably not the way he would have preferred to save himself. Next thing he knew he was waking up, dizzy and extremely cold in Katara's arms; he'd thought, at first, that he could have only been in that iceberg for a day, two at most. It wasn't long before he realized that there was a war going on, his entire race had all been slaughtered, and he was in fact 112 years old.

A rather shocking wake-up call for a happy kid raised by peaceful monks in the most idyllic atmosphere possible.

The Airbenders all died because of _him_ – because he ran away, and disappeared against his will. The world had suffered under the tyranny of the Firelords because he'd been scared and had left them all without a protector.

He had thought by now that he would have recovered from the shock, from the guilt. After all, he'd fixed the mess he'd made. He'd defeated Firelord Ozai and returned balance to the world. But there was the aftermath of the war: still his fault. There were the people who had died, or had lost loved ones to the Fire Nation's violence – like Sokka and Katara's mother: also still his fault. And there was, of course, himself. Living proof of the greatest tragedy of all, and the greatest of his shames.

The last Airbender. The only one left who'd escaped the Fire Nation's genocide.

So many things that could never be fixed or undone: all his fault. All because he'd got caught in a storm alone, and gone into the Avatar state to save himself.

Yeah. He wasn't trying that trick again.

The Air Nomads would be gone from the world forever because of him. He was the last one – so was it up to him to repopulate? Considering Katara's recent behavior towards him, that didn't seem too likely to happen.

If he hadn't frozen himself, he would never have even met Katara. Maybe it would have been better that way. To have never met – to have never known.

Maybe Katara would have been happier. Maybe her mother would never have died, and her father would not have had to leave them alone to go fight in the war. Maybe Katara and Sokka could have grown up like normal kids, instead of having to become adults at such young ages. Maybe Katara could have lived a quiet life, learned Waterbending in the South Pole, married someone from her own tribe, had lots of babies, and died an old, happy lady just like her Gran Gran.

Hm.

Maybe he _should _go into Avatar state and freeze himself again, after all.

Maybe he should just disappear for another hundred years. Katara would probably be relieved that he was gone, and she could finally be normal. She could find a husband that wouldn't leave her, that wouldn't need anything except her. Someone that the whole world didn't constantly need for help and protection. Someone she could keep to herself.

Appa was making angry noises at Aang, and he realized suddenly that he was clutching too hard at Appa's neck, and his fingers were glowing a scorching orange. Mild Firebending. Sometimes it came unconsciously out of him when he was upset.

Aang loosened his fiery grip and remembered suddenly that he was supposed to be breathing.

"Sorry, Appa," he muttered sharply. His teeth ached from clenching against the storms raging both outside and inside of him.

Normally, he was the most peaceful person in the world. But at the moment he couldn't feel anything but hate. Hate for the storm, for beating him down like this while he was still reeling from the beating Katara had given him. Hate for the world, for always needing him, for forcing him to leave Katara alone. Hate for himself and who he was and that, despite all his power, he still felt as weak and helpless as when he'd first emerged from that stupid iceberg.

His stomach churned a little, experiencing slight indigestion, unaccustomed to dwelling so much in the feeling of hatred. But there was something rather indulgent about it as well.

"Is this storm _ever_ going to end!" he shouted angrily. He'd come to the conclusion they would simply have to ride it out as best they could, but it seemed like it had been going on for hours, with no end in sight.

An enormous wave loomed over them, and Aang quickly sliced it directly down the middle with a fierce wall of air, roaring with rage that the wave would even _dare _to try to crush him right now. Appa flew through it, shaking his head and grumbling as they were both splashed again with icy salt water.

Suddenly, Aang thought he something – a black shape, darting, gliding, in and out of sight. It sort of fluttered, like a black lemur-bat.

_What was that_? His senses were too good for him to think he'd only imagined it. And there it was again! – fluttering like a living shadow through the storm. Something told him it wasn't just a strange animal. There was something deliberate in the way it was moving; something belonging to the spirit world; something slightly familiar, though he couldn't place it.

"Hello?" he shouted, realizing he'd have to bellow to be heard over the storm. "Who are you? Are you stuck in the storm?"

There was no reply. Aang assumed that whatever it was simply hadn't heard him through the thunderous rain. So he launched a small fireball from his fist, hoping that he or she (or it) would notice the light.

"I'm the Avatar!" he roared as loudly as he could. "I can help you!"

The shadow-thing vanished as soon as Aang's fireball burst into the dark air.

Aang's eyes darted around, scanning the storm on all sides, but there was nothing but unforgiving rain screaming sideways on the wind, and huge black waves breaking disastrously below.

"Hello?" he shouted again, wondering if the thing had been driven into the violent sea. "Are you there?"

For several moments, there was not another glimpse of the thing. Aang felt sure it wasn't anything physical at all, but some spirit lurking about in the storm. It suddenly disconcerted him slightly that he didn't know where it was.

"Oh, well, Appa," he sighed, shivering. "I guess it's gone."

Suddenly, Appa roared, rearing backwards. Aang gripped the bison's neck, shouting with surprise.

As if it had been suddenly lifted from the bottom of the ocean by an Earthbender, a strange column of rock had appeared out of nowhere, directly in their path. Appa and Aang only barely missed crashing straight into it.

Appa veered sharply to the left, circling back around and grunting with fright. Aang craned his neck and looked back at the rocky tower.

_Weird_, he thought. _It's not carved, but it looks like something made by Earthbenders. But why would it be out here in the middle of the ocean?_

"But then again," he thought aloud. "Maybe we can stop there, just until the storm passes."

Appa mumbled nervously at him. Aang felt a little uneasy too, but what else was there to do? He was certain there was something significant about it – something spiritual. It could be good or bad. But either way, it was a place to rest. And he _was _the Avatar, after all, the great bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds. If anyone could handle whatever was there in that rock, it would be him.

Besides, there was something about it – something that seemed to call him. He usually never ignored it when places called to him. Almost always, it meant something important.

"Yip yip!" Aang shouted, flicking Appa's reins and directing the bison back toward the strange stone column.

Soon they were circling around the outside of it – it had to be at least half as wide as Zuko's palace in the Fire Nation, and nearly as tall as the tallest pinnacle of the Southern Air Temple. Aang glimpsed a small cave-like opening on the northern side, and guided Appa toward the opening. At last they alighted; both Airbender and bison were glad to be out of the wind and rain.

"Anyone here?" Aang called into the cave. He would have been more surprised to find it empty, honestly. Places like this were rarely empty, though it was always difficult to predict what might be inside.

But there was no answer. Nothing but the echoes of Aang's voice, bouncing back at him mockingly. The cave was tall, but didn't seem to go back very far.

Aang pulled off his glove and puffed a small flame into his fist, holding the fire up to cast the light farther back into the cave. Though it was dim, he could glimpse the cave's back wall. Not deep at all. He held the flame higher, feeding it a little more fuel, and leaned backwards to gaze up toward the ceiling. He couldn't see the top of the cave, but there didn't appear to be anything lurking up there.

"Huh." He furrowed his brow, then shrugged. "Oh, well. Maybe whatever was here just isn't anymore."

Appa very suddenly roared behind him – an unusual sound that Aang didn't often hear from his bison. It was a roar of terror.

Quickly, he turned, afraid something was attacking Appa. But the instant he turned he found himself face to face with a shrieking bluenose monkey.

His heart leaped into his throat and he screamed in surprise, falling backwards and accidentally snuffing out his little flame. In the utter darkness, he could see nothing, but it only took half a moment for him to realize with dread who it was that was now chuckling hungrily at him, and whose claws were reaching for his face, and what a disastrous blunder he'd just made.

"At last," Koh sighed with satisfaction. "Didn't I tell you we would meet again, young Avatar? It is a shame you're no longer a child, but I think I can content myself with the face you have now. There is still something delightfully childlike about it."

Aang couldn't run, couldn't call for help, couldn't fight. He'd already shown emotion, already screamed. Koh had known he wouldn't be prepared this time, that he would never have expected to meet him here, in the physical world.

There was no escape.

The last sight he was conscious of was a leering face, scaly and ripped apart by scars, with two empty hollows for eyes and a greedy forked tongue.

The last feeling he knew was of the spirit tearing him apart, splitting something from his soul, and a sickening sensation of ice cold and vertigo.

The last strange image in his mind was of Katara, weeping over his lifeless body. He heard his own voice, far away, saying half-conscious words. Then all was cold darkness.


	7. Tenzin

_That's right. Tenzin! _:D

_So, yeah, uh... now that Legend of Korra's come out, I realize that Tenzin is actually Aang & Katara's YOUNGEST child, not the oldest. So far I believe that's the biggest canon-conflict I've had, and I think it's really not that big of a deal; there's no way to fix it at this point anyway. So, oh well!... Just wanted to say that, yes, I'm aware of this. But just pretend Tenzin's the oldest for now, 'kay?_

_DISCLAIMER: Don't own "Avatar." Never will. There it is. Bam._

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><p><strong>TENZIN<strong>

_FIVE YEARS LATER..._

"And that's the story of how Avatar Aang and Princess Yue saved the Moon, and stopped the North Pole from being destroyed forever."

"Wow! That's amazing," the five-year old sighed with satisfaction. His bright blue eyes were shining, as images of an enchanted oasis, two black and white Koi fish, a massive ocean monster, and a hero with glowing eyes and arrow tattoos replayed before them. His crooked, joyful grin stretched all the way from one oversized ear to another. "Is that really how it happened, Momma?"

"Yep," his blue-eyed mother smiled. "Exactly the way I told you."

"But how do you know all that?"

"Because I was there! Weren't you listening?"

He raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"I was," she laughed at him. "Just ask your uncle. He was there too."

"So did you know Avatar Aang?" the boy asked.

She smiled softly for a moment, a thousand memories passing behind her eyes in a fraction of a second. "I did," she replied. "I knew Avatar Aang very well, actually."

"Really?" The small boy looked ecstatic. "Will I ever get to meet him?"

She hesitated. "Well… I don't know. Maybe one day."

"Neat!" He sat straight up in bed, throwing back the thick satin covers in excitement. "If I ever met Avatar Aang, I'd want to see him make his eyes and tattoos glow, and then fly around on his glider and blow things up with stuff! Pchoo, _p-pow_!" He threw fierce punches into the air with great enthusiasm. Small gusts of wind burst from his tiny fists, stirring his mother's brown hair.

She laughed and tucked him back under the blankets. "No blowing things up tonight, sweetie. It's time for bed."

"Aw," he sighed. "Tell me another story about Avatar Aang!"

She gave him one of her _looks_ – she'd always been good at them. "All right. Just _one_. And then bedtime. Agreed?"

"Promise!" he cried, eagerly nestling himself deeper into the bed to prepare for the next tale.

"Okay," she grinned. "Now, let's see. What about Avatar Aang and the pirates?"

"No, Momma," he said. "You told me that one last week. I wanna hear a new one!"

"Okay, okay. Don't be so bossy. Now, let me think… Have I told you about how Avatar Aang battled the Mad King of Omashu?"

"No!" His blue eyes lit up with anticipation.

"Well, then," she grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Get ready. It's not a story for the faint of heart!"

She tickled him through the covers, and he thrashed and giggled.

"Okay," she began, smiling and running her fingers through his short, black hair. "One day, many years ago, long before you were ever born, Avatar Aang was journeying through the Earth Kingdom. There, he came across a beautiful city on a mountain. The city was called Omashu. He'd been there before, a hundred years ago, and so he decided to go back and see how the city had changed in all that time…"

* * *

><p>When the story was finished, the five-year old boy was just tipping over the brink of consciousness, his eyes wrestling futilely against the weight of sleep. His mother leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek, and tucked his blankets a little more snugly around him. Taking the candle that was resting on the nearby table, she stood and walked quietly out of the room, entrusting the care of her son to the cocoon of darkness and the protective light of the moon that peaked through the curtains. With a quiet smile, she carefully closed the heavy wooden door, leaving only the smallest crack of an opening. She yawned.<p>

_Sleepy so early?_ she asked herself in surprise. _I must really be getting old._

"Was that story true?" came a soft voice from behind her.

Startled, she turned so suddenly that the little flame of her candle burnt out, and she gasped, putting a hand to her heart. "I didn't see you there," she breathed.

He stepped forward, and his hand – pale white in contrast with the shadows and the dark robes he wore – emerged from the folds of his thick sleeves and gave a little wave. The candle instantly reignited itself, casting a gentle orange glow upon the two of them.

"Did all that really happen?" he asked again. "With Aang and King Bumi?"

She smiled rather grimly at him. "All of my stories are true. You should know that by now, Zuko."

Zuko didn't return her smile, though he did look grim – but that wasn't unusual. "Do you really think you should be getting his hopes up like that?" he asked.

She felt a small twitch of anger – or was it guilt? – pinch at the inside of her stomach.

"Getting his hopes up about what?" she asked, attempting to sound naïve rather than defensive. Despite her efforts, though, she could feel the words come out with a distinctly defensive flavor.

"About Aang coming back," he replied. His voice was stern; she knew he wasn't going to allow her to pretend to be innocent.

She hesitated. "So, you heard that part too, huh? Just how long were you eavesdropping?"

"Don't change the subject, Katara," he commanded, gently but firmly. He knew she was just hoping to evade him by starting a fight – she'd done that trick on him many times – but he wasn't planning on letting this one go. "I heard the whole thing. Even what you never said aloud."

"Like what?" she demanded softly.

"Like how you yourself are still hoping that he's coming back someday."

Katara scowled at him and turned away, storming bitterly down the corridor.

"Don't walk away from this, Katara," he commanded her again, this time less gently.

"Don't tell me what to do!" she snarled.

She didn't stop walking, so he followed her. "When are you going to face the fact that he's probably never going to come back? You can't keep living in this little lie you've created for yourself, especially if you're going to bring Tenzin into it with you. You've got to let Aang go."

She finally stopped walking, reeling against the wall as if he'd just thrown a knife into her back. Breathing, she let her eyes drift to the painting on the wall beside her – the great heroes and kings of the Fire Nation, forever frozen in the middle of their stories on the stones.

She bit her lower lip, and refused to look at him. Fiery tears burned in the corners of her eyes.

"I can't," she whispered at last. "You don't understand, Zuko."

"I _do _understand, Katara," he protested quietly. "I lost Mai, remember? I lost Mai, just like you lost Aang. But I've accepted that she's never coming back, and I found peace when I did. I was still sad, but it wasn't the same kind of sadness. Not the kind that would tear me apart from the inside out. I look at you and I see that in you. I just want you to be able to move on."

He laid a hand on her hunched shoulder, but she ripped away from him violently.

"It's not the same for you as it is for me!" she shouted. "Mai died!"

The guilt knocked the wind out of her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Zuko glowered darkly at her, his sympathy for her battling rather unsuccessfully against his growing anger and frustration.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Katara looked away from him in shame. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That was – that was really inappropriate."

"Yes. It was." His tone was no longer so merciful as it had been moments ago. "So, you think it's harder for you? You think that _I _have it easier, because at least Mai just died? Because at least I was able to hold her lifeless body in my arms, to watch her burn away on a pyre? Because I can know, without a doubt, that she's really gone and will never come back?"

"I just meant – "

"I know what you meant. You meant exactly what I just said. You're feeling sorry for yourself – you've always felt sorry for yourself. You can't let go of Aang because you weren't lucky enough to see him die right in front of your eyes. Because he just disappeared. You never got the evidence to convince you he's not coming back, so you keep on clinging to this ridiculous hope that maybe he's _not _dead after all. But if he's not dead, then _where is he_, Katara?"

"I don't know!" she cried, her cheeks flushing with rage.

"He's been gone for five years! How do you explain that? What could have possibly happened to him to keep him away? Where would he have been all this time?"

"You _know_ I don't know, Zuko!" she screamed in frustration. "Why are you even asking? Do you really think that if I knew he was alive, and I knew where he was, that Tenzin and I would still be _here_?"

Crack.

Zuko felt like she'd just thrown a lightning bolt straight at his heart. He wanted to throw it back at her.

"_Why_, Katara?" he yelled fiercely. "If you found out he was alive right now, you'd just take Tenzin and go running off to find him? Why? If he _is _still alive, is he really worth all this, after choosing to abandon you and Tenzin for five years?"

"He wouldn't have _chosen _to – "

"Oh, really?" Zuko had completely lost control of his temper by now. "Think about it, just for a second. He was _the Avatar_. Do you really think that anything in this world could have kept him away from you for five years, against his will? Either he's dead, or he chose to leave. Unless you have another explanation?"

Katara faltered for a moment, searched helplessly for words – any words, to throw back at him. But she came up empty, cornered without a defense. Falling back against the wall, she slid to the ground, crumpled up and dissolved into tears.

Zuko looked at her, at her shoulders heaving with sobs, at the candlelight gliding over her hair. Pity surged in him. He'd done that to her. He'd broken her down. Why did he always do that? Didn't he know what it was like, to feel cornered and powerless like that? He wished he hadn't been quite so relentless. Sometimes he forgot; his wound had become a scar over time, but hers had never healed. It was still open and bleeding. Sometimes he forgot to remember what that felt like.

He sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to be so hard on you. I'm just worried. It's been too long for you to still hold on to this idea that he's going to come back. It's not healthy. You've got to move on, Katara. You've got to heal. If not for yourself, then at least for Tenzin's sake."

Katara felt like she'd just been torn to shreds. Most of the time, she was perfectly fine – she could ignore the wound, as long as no one picked at it. But there was too much truth in Zuko's words; he'd exposed the wound again, and the pain was almost too difficult to bear. To tell the truth, she would have preferred to know that Aang was dead. It would have been better than this uncertainty. Wondering – what could have happened to him? What could have kept him away so long? And the one she dreaded most of all – _did _he choose to leave them alone like this, of his own free will?

"I know what you're saying is right, Zuko," she sighed at last, choking on a sob. "But – I just can't. I can't move on. Not yet. I'm sorry."

Zuko closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. It was hard. He'd taken her in when she was alone. He had helped take care of Tenzin with her. He'd given her sympathy and comfort when she needed it. He'd given her _everything_. Yet still, she couldn't let Aang go, even after all this time.

He opened his mouth to ask a question, then hesitated. Unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer. Fairly sure that he already knew.

He asked it anyway. Maybe it would at least make her think about it.

"Katara," he began, in a hush. "What will you do, if he ever _does _come back?"

She didn't answer for a long time. When she finally did, it was so soft that he almost didn't hear it.

"I don't know," she said.

There was a long stretch of silence between them. He held her in his arms, but it wasn't comfortable. It was broken and bitter. They never meant to hurt each other; they always just meant to help. But somehow, it seemed like they always ended up like this, injured and ashamed. Fire and water. They couldn't help but destroy one another when they got too close. One or the other – or both – was always bound to be cancelled out. It was just in their natures.

Zuko finally sighed and lifted himself to his feet. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "Good-night, Katara."

She remained on the ground, not looking at him. "Good-night, Zuko."

In a moment he was gone. She was alone. No company, except the painted figures on the walls of the long, empty corridor.

She sat, still folded up in herself, and gazed at the candlelit walls. On the wall opposite her, a Fire Prince of long ago rode a golden dragon into battle, leading a loyal army behind him and wielding a blade of flames in his hand. His eyes seared – fierce, but noble.

Picking up her candle, Katara stood and wandered down the corridor, running her fingers lightly over the thick stones of the walls. She could sense small traces of water through them, trickling down the outside of the palace, left over from the rain that had fallen earlier that evening. Even inside these walls, she could feel the power of the moon creeping through her blood, pulsing in her nerves, deepening each breath she took.

She passed through many halls, like a ghost, wandering eternally. By now, she knew the Fire Palace well – every door and every window and every crack in the stones. She knew all the paintings on the walls, all the people and their stories.

But there was one painting, one story in particular.

Something had drawn her to it from the first days she'd been living there. Here it was – in another hall, on another floor – far from Tenzin's room, and Zuko's room, and her own room – in a remote tower of the palace that faced the south, towards her old home in the South Pole.

Katara sat herself on the carpeted floor and placed the candle beside her, gazing up at the old familiar painting once more.

It was certainly a strange scene. She hadn't understood it when she first saw it, but she'd been attracted to it nevertheless. A man stood in the center: a large man, in long flowing robes of shimmering, plummeting blackness. His eyes glowed with the telltale white light of the Avatar state, and from his outstretched hands flowed streams of the four elements. But there was something in his expression, something she hadn't seen in any of the other paintings in the palace. A trace of deep loss, of loneliness, of disorientation. Shackles bound his feet, and the opening of a dark cave encircled him. In the shadows behind him, there lurked hints of a hundred strange creatures, villainous and hungry things, ready to devour him as soon as he became too weak to fight.

And below his chained feet, lying flat with her hands folded on her chest, was a woman with a pure white dress and long brown hair. Her eyes were covered with a red blindfold.

Katara had come to this painting, not knowing what it meant, many times during her first two weeks at the Fire Palace. The baby had been only a month old, then, and she hadn't named him yet. Everyone referred to him simply as 'the baby.' She had often worried for him during the course of that first month; he rarely ever cried, rarely made any sound at all. He never looked at her, or at anyone else. Gran Gran had told her, before she left the South Pole, that he was having problems with recognition – he couldn't connect with people. Not even with his own mother.

Katara had blamed herself, as she usually did with everything. She had thought it was her fault, because she hadn't given him a name. He didn't know who he was. And if he didn't know who he was, then how could he possible know anyone else?

But she still had been unable to name him. _She _didn't even know who he was, then.

One day, about two weeks after her arrival at the Fire Palace, Uncle Iroh had found her here, holding the baby and staring intently at the strange painting.

"_You like this one_?" he'd said.

She'd turned in surprise, having not heard him approach. "_I don't know why_," she'd replied. "_There's just something about it_."

"_Has anyone told you the story yet?"_

"_No. All I can figure out is that he's an Avatar."_

Uncle had nodded. "_Avatar Tenzin. A thousand years ago, Tenzin was a Firebending Avatar who won great fame throughout all the four nations. In those days, the spirits were much wilder and bolder than they are now, and ran rampant throughout the world – and not all of them were friendly, as I'm sure you can guess. Some were entirely evil. The spirits were so out of control that they threatened to tear apart the entire world. Tenzin restored the balance to the world by closing up the over-abundance of pathways between the physical and spiritual realms. He left many open, of course, so as to not throw the balance off in the opposite direction. But some of the more vengeful spirits, angry at losing their power over the mortals, punished Tenzin by taking his wife, Princess Zara. That's her, at the bottom."_

"_They stole her from him?"_

"_Well, in a manner of speaking," _Uncle had stroked his beard thoughtfully._ "They didn't physically take her, but they put her to sleep – an endless sleep, from which no one could wake her. So, to save her, Tenzin journeyed deep into the spirit world, offering himself in her place. The spirits accepted this offer and took him captive. No one ever saw Avatar Tenzin alive in this world again, but Princess Zara awoke and spent the rest of her life hoping for his return."_

Katara had sighed. It all just hit a little too close to home suddenly.

"_And then, there's the really ironic part of the story_," Uncle had continued, shaking his head slightly. "_You see, it is said that after Princess Zara awoke, the only time that Tenzin was ever allowed to return to see her was while she slept. So the Princess would often put herself into an artificial sleep, just so that she might see him again. Some say that she never truly died, that she finally just went to sleep and never woke up again – the very fate that Tenzin had sacrificed himself to save her from – just so that they might be together forever_."

"_Well,"_ Katara had frowned. "_That – that really – stinks. Doesn't it?"_

Uncle had chuckled. "_Yes. Yes, it does_."

He'd left her alone soon after telling her the story, but for a long time Katara had continued to stare at the painting: the sleeping Princess Zara, the greedy spirits in the shadows, the hopeless face of the lost Avatar.

"_Tenzin_," she'd whispered, as if the painting might come alive and speak to her.

It didn't, of course. But the baby did.

He had stirred out of his sleep, suddenly, and stared straight into her eyes in a way that he'd never done before. He recognized her. He looked alert, expectant even – as if he'd been called. Katara had stared back at him in astonishment.

"_Tenzin_?" she'd said again. The baby had gurgled slightly, twitched, and for the first time since his birth, he'd smiled at her. His blue eyes were hers, but that smile undoubtedly belonged to Aang, stretching effortlessly from one big ear to another, as if he'd been doing it all along. Katara had laughed aloud, amazed, as he'd reached out to pull on her hair. He'd looked like he was glad to finally be acknowledged.

"Tenzin," Katara whispered again now, in the dark silence, though her little son was far away and the painting still would not reply.

What was it that drew her to this place, to that story? Was it Avatar Tenzin, or Princess Zara, that she felt more connected to? It was a little something of both of them, perhaps. Tenzin and his futile existence, willingly trapping himself in the dark, waiting to finally be devoured by despair, all to save his wife from an endless sleep that she would eventually fall into anyway of her own accord. And Zara – with her loneliness, her loss, her lethargy. Perhaps it was merely the idea of this isolation, this separation, with no escape except in endless sleep.

Katara eventually found herself nodding off, and decided she probably ought to go to bed before she fell asleep here, and awoke in the morning with a knot in her back and Zuko standing over her, wanting to know why she'd felt the need to sleep in the hallway.

Picking up her little candle, she retraced her steps back through the corridors until she came to the heavy door that led to her bedroom. She blew out the flame and fell into the welcome sheets, and was claimed by sleep almost the moment that her head touched the pillow.


	8. Filling in the Blanks

_And, still going... Zuko chapter!_ :)

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Zuko or any of his messed up life. Except his daughter. I own her, because I made her up. But everything else, nope.  
>(Though I guess Zuko actually DOES have a daughter... But since we've never seen her or even heard her in name yet in <span>Legend of Korra<span>, I'm sticking with my former statement)._

* * *

><p><strong>FILLING IN THE BLANKS<strong>

He had thought he was tired, but he couldn't sleep.

This must have been the twelfth time he'd turned over in the past ten minutes. The picture of his mother, former Princess Ursa, sat on the table beside his bed as it had for years. It was haunting him. He couldn't face it, for then she would be looking at him. But he couldn't turn away, for then he'd feel guilty about turning his back on her.

Zuko finally sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at the picture.

"I did my best," he whispered fiercely. "It's not my fault you disappeared."

His mother's soft eyes seemed sad, abandoned. Feeling sorrow for his own sadness. But he wasn't in the mood for any sympathy right now – not even from a picture.

Sixteen years. That was how long it had been since she vanished, and he hadn't been able to find a trace of her in all that time. He would never forget the last night she was with him. He'd gone to sleep fitfully, wrestling terrible thoughts, after his sadistic sister had come to laugh that their father was going to kill him. He hadn't believed it. _Azula always lies - _that was the mantra he'd repeated desperately to himself that night. He was only eight years old. No eight year-old could imagine that his father was actually a monster and a tyrant, that his father was capable of – and willing to – actually kill him.

It would take another eight years for him to finally realize the extent of his father's cruelty and mercilessness. But that night, he'd gone to sleep convincing himself it was nothing but another one of Azula's cruel pranks.

In the middle of the night, his mother had awoken him. She'd seemed frightened, hurried, and the words she'd said to him were words of farewell, begging his forgiveness for something he didn't understand. He'd been too young, and too sleepy, to comprehend what was happening. That he would awaken the next morning and find her gone, and would never see her again. That she had done the unspeakable – murder, treachery – all in order to save him.

Eight years. It had taken him eight years after that to finally face his father, to finally demand what had become of his mother.

It had been another eight years since then. Eight years that he'd ruled as Firelord, that he'd done his best to bring peace to the lands that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had torn apart. Eight years since he'd begun searching for her. Yet still, nothing. She was gone.

It had been five years since Mai had died. He'd given up the search around that time. He'd already lost the majority of his hope before then; after that, he simply lost the will.

His father had never given him a clear answer about where his mother was. He'd believed that she was still alive somewhere, but no one – not even the bounty hunter June, with the Shirshu that supposedly could smell out anyone in the world – had been able to find her. And a year after Aang defeated him and left him powerless, his father had committed suicide, unable to bear the humiliation. In his proud mind, Aang's mercy in sparing his life was a worse punishment than death. And when Ozai died, all possible information about his mother's whereabouts went to the grave with him.

Azula hadn't died, though. She had lived on in prison, growing more deranged by the day.

In retrospect, Zuko regretted that he hadn't had her executed for treachery when he had the chance. But at the same time he knew that back then, even if he'd somehow known what was to come, he still couldn't have done it. Even now, if he had the chance, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it. She was evil, and insane – but she was his sister. Zuko was naturally merciful, and during his friendship with Aang, he had only grown more so – more than he even knew. Something inside of Zuko had always hoped that, somehow, Azula would regain herself; and perhaps, in the process, she would rediscover the heart that he knew she must have had once in her life.

The news that Azula had escaped prison had come a day too late to save Mai.

They'd been married for two years by then. They had a daughter – named Ursa, for her missing grandmother – who was approaching her second birthday and astonishing them all with the quick pace at which she was learning everything. She was destined to be a prodigy, like her demented aunt. She looked just like Mai, and would soon begin to develop the same blasé attitude that Mai was known for. There was little of Zuko in his daughter – but he could see traces of _his _mother, the one she was named for, in her. She would be a great Firebender one day, and the Firelord after Zuko.

The day that Azula reappeared in their lives, Mai and Zuko had had a terrible fight. Zuko had never forgiven himself for the things he'd said to her that day – vicious things. He'd been angry about not finding his mother, angry about the difficulties of being the Firelord, angry about a million things that had nothing to do with Mai. She'd only come to tell him that Ursa was asking for him, that he ought to take a break and spend some time with his daughter. But he hadn't listened – he'd only shouted that he didn't have time for whatever was bothering her. She was always going on about something. She just didn't understand all he had to deal with every day.

Mai, of course, had never been one to stand for being yelled at. She'd grown angry and left him alone to find his senses again. That was the last time he saw her alive.

Unbeknownst to both of them at the time, Azula was running free, and she was on a crazed mission. During her time in prison, she'd apparently been violently obsessed with the idea that she was still the rightful Firelord. She had formulated a complex plan – no one knew exactly _how _complex – to take revenge on everyone she believed had contributed to her overthrow, and take back her rightful throne.

And Mai, the best friend who had betrayed her to save Zuko, was the first on her list.

Mai was the first of Azula's "warnings." Since then, others had died at her hand: Li and Lo, her old mentors; some of the Dai Li agents of Ba Sing Se; a servant girl that had once left a pit in Azula's cherry. Literally, anyone who'd been in contact with Azula during her final days before incarceration was in danger. So far she'd been unsuccessful at attacking Ty Lee, Sokka or Suki – though she'd been lurking around Kyoshi Island for years now, with unceasing persistence. Luckily, the Kyoshi Warriors were well prepared to deal with her, but she was still cunning enough to avoid capture. Zuko knew it was only a matter of time before she finally caught them off guard, or moved on to another target.

And Zuko himself was to be saved for last. So that he would be forced to helplessly watch as she murdered everyone he cared about. So that he would know she was coming for him, but be unable to stop it. So that he would suffer most of all. Even in her madness, Azula was a master of manipulation and psychological terror.

Mai's body had been found in the streets of the city, her throat slit, Azula's message folded up in her hand. Azula herself had disappeared.

That was five years ago. So long ago – yet only up until the past year, Zuko had hardly been able to sleep without having nightmares of Azula coming after him, slitting throats as she went. Of Mai, dying alone in the streets. Of himself, slitting Mai's throat with his own knife, and his own hand.

He still felt the loss, the coldness, the numb ache leftover from that shattering, stabbing, incomprehensible lightning strike. He'd quickly lost his grip on his life after Mai's murder. He'd even, shamefully, neglected Ursa, who was far too young at the time to understand where her mother had gone. Uncle Iroh left his tea shop in Ba Sing Se to come keep everything running until Zuko could function again, to take care of the Fire Nation, and of baby Ursa. But even Uncle could not bring Zuko out of the deep hole he'd fallen into. The only reason Zuko had finally been able to go on with his life was because of Katara.

She'd come with the baby about a month after Mai's death. Zuko always suspected that Uncle had asked her to come, but Uncle would forever deny it. Not coincidentally, it had been about ten months since Aang's strange disappearance. Katara had clearly still been reeling from her own loss, but she'd come nevertheless. She'd always been the healer, always the nurturer, no matter what terrible wounds she herself was suffering.

Zuko hadn't wanted to see anyone at the time, and Katara had grown frustrated trying to help him. _You think you're the only who's hurting? _she'd shouted angrily at him one day through his bedroom door. _You think you're the only one who's alone in this world?_

Somehow, at last, Katara had broken through. Probably, it was the baby's doing as well. _Tenzin_. So obviously Aang's son. Zuko and Katara had suffered great losses, and the evidence of their losses lived on in the form of these two children – Ursa and Tenzin – who both needed constant care and attention, and who both bore very unfair resemblances to their respective absent parents. Zuko could never understand where Katara drew her strength from. He'd begun to help her care for Tenzin, and she'd begun to help him care for Ursa again; that was really the beginning of the healing process. Somehow, they'd bonded over the children, over their mutual grief. It was something they had in common.

Katara had never meant to stay. She'd only come to see that Zuko survived, to stay as long as she was needed, and then to return home to the South Pole.

But a week turned into a month, which turned into two months, which soon became three. Before either of them knew it, summer had become winter, and people around the Fire Nation were beginning to talk about the Firelord and the Water Tribe girl that was staying with him, and about exactly whose son that was. Most people believed Tenzin was Zuko's son; that Katara had been Zuko's mistress even before Mai's death, and Mai's murder was just a convenient excuse for him to have her move into the palace.

Zuko loathed those rumors; just thinking of them filled him with burning rage. But he couldn't dispel them. Katara didn't want everyone knowing that Tenzin's father was the missing Avatar, for Tenzin's own safety. No one ever believed Zuko when he insisted that he and Katara were just friends, anyway.

Then, one evening, just after the Winter Solstice, Zuko, Katara, Ursa and Tenzin had all been sitting comfortably around the fireplace in one of the more relaxing palace rooms. Ursa had been drifting reluctantly off to sleep, babbling about something he could only pretend to understand; Tenzin had been in the process of learning to walk, and Katara had been leading him around the room, holding him by the arms and uttering enthusiastic nonsense at him. Zuko had simply made himself an observer, smiling quietly and wondering at the strange turns of fate that had brought them all to this place. He couldn't have said that he was happy; but there was definitely something nice about it.

"_Katara?_" he'd broken the peaceful quiet suddenly.

"_Hm?_"

"_What's going on with us?_"

She'd stopped leading Tenzin around, sitting quietly on her knees and gathering the chubby toddler into her arms. She'd looked at Zuko very seriously.

"_What do you mean?_" she'd asked.

"_You've been living here for almost eight months now,_" Zuko had said. _"You've helped me with Ursa, and I've been taking care of Tenzin with you. We've been filling in each other's blanks for a while. But I've just been wondering… what exactly is going on with us_?"

She'd looked away, kept her gaze carefully fixed on Tenzin, who was grinning playfully up at her and gargling some gibberish in his throat. Zuko had glanced for a moment at Ursa, fast asleep beside him, snoring softly.

"_People have been talking,_" he'd added after the silence.

"_So I've heard."_

He'd sat there for a few moments, waiting. It was her turn to add something to the conversation. He didn't have anything else yet.

She'd finally sighed and looked at him. _"What do you want me to say, Zuko? Do you think I should leave?_"

"_No!" _he'd said quickly, quietly, so as not to awaken Ursa. _"I mean… not unless you think you should._"

She'd lost herself in thought for a few moments, allowing Tenzin to tug on her hair.

"_It's been really nice here,_" she'd finally begun, hesitating, choosing her words carefully. _"It's been good for Tenzin. You know – having a… a father-figure around_."

She'd looked carefully at Zuko then.

"_A boy needs a father,_" she'd said. _"You understand._"

He had moved (careful not to disturb Ursa) to kneel beside her on the floor.

"_I think you should stay_," he'd said.

She'd studied his face carefully. _"I can't be Mai, Zuko._"

"_Well, I can't be Aang_," he'd replied.

"_Well – I guess as long as we're just trying to be ourselves, then I'll stay._"

He'd surprised himself by kissing her then. But she'd surprised him more by not protesting, and then – after a moment – by (carefully) kissing him back.

* * *

><p>It had definitely been a strange five years. Ursa had grown. Tenzin had grown. They'd both gotten so big, so fast, and both showed remarkable skills already in their respective Bending elements, fire and air. Katara became something like Ursa's nanny, and Ursa liked to refer to her as 'Aunt Tara' and to boss Tenzin around mercilessly. Tenzin never seemed to mind Ursa bossing him around, though – he seemed rather enamored of her, and gladly followed her every whim.<p>

Ursa had been staying with Uncle in Ba Sing Se recently. She often took trips to see Uncle these days, now that her Firebending training had officially begun. Zuko knew from experience that there was no better teacher than Uncle, and Ursa loved her stays in the big city, always returning with interesting stories to eagerly tell anyone willing to listen (usually Tenzin). Zuko was glad that Ursa was safe in Ba Sing Se at the moment, but he still rather regretted that she wasn't here with him now. He would have been glad of her company.

_What's going on with us?_

Zuko wondered if, even now, were he to ask Katara the same question he'd asked her that night five years ago, her answer would be any different or less ambiguous. She had been a comforting presence that he'd needed desperately for survival – a kind of human morphine. But she had also been increasingly a constant source of troubling thoughts and emotions for him. It seemed the more she helped him heal, the more she hurt him by her own inability to heal herself. He often heard her waking in the night, screaming after having had some nightmare. She never told him what her dreams were about, but he'd heard her calling Aang's name in her sleep on multiple occasions, so it wasn't difficult to figure out.

When she'd first come to live at the palace, he had used her to fill in the emptiness left by Mai's sudden death. But over time that wound had scabbed over, and Katara had become something different to him: something that took up a space all her own in his heart. He and Katara hadn't always had the greatest relationship. She'd been the first to trust him, and thus the one who'd felt the most betrayed by him when he had made that foolish decision to join Azula in Ba Sing Se years ago. She'd been the last to agree to let him join the gang and train Aang in Firebending. And he could still recall some of the threatening speech she'd given him back then, warning him of the mysterious horrible things she'd do to him if she had any reason to believe he might harm Aang.

He'd always had a great deal of respect for Katara, though. He'd fought both against her and alongside her enough times to know what a powerful Waterbender she was; and he related to her struggle with the death of her own mother. That was something else they'd always had in common. He'd esteemed her skills highly enough to ask her to join him when he finally set off to face Azula. He wouldn't have survived that battle without her.

But back then, he'd never thought of her in any other way except as a colleague worthy of great respect and gratitude. He'd had Mai; he hadn't felt the need to look anywhere else for that sort of love. And he also had known that Aang was in love with Katara, and had strongly suspected that the feeling was reciprocated. It had been almost satisfying to him when his suspicions had finally been confirmed. They were cute kids. They went perfect together. Air and Water – the gentle elements. The healers and movers of the world. They were both so… light.

It was different now. Aang was gone. And Katara – she was something different now, too. She wasn't just a skilled warrior. She wasn't just Mai's replacement. She wasn't just a surrogate mother for Ursa. She was Katara, an entity unto herself. He loved her, in his way.

But to her, he was still just filling in her blanks. He was still only filling the role that Aang had left empty when he disappeared.

Zuko rolled over in bed yet again, and sighed deeply. She had said she didn't know what she would do if Aang came back. But Zuko knew. She would leave. She probably wouldn't think twice.

He wondered if he could handle it, if it ever did happen.


	9. Don't Cry, Katara

_Okay, so this chapter is by far my favorite. In fact, I think it's one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's also I think the longest so far in this story, haha. I also remember writing this around 3 AM, which only confirms my suspicions that I am the most creative when I am delirious from lack of sleep._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Avatar the Last Airbender." Most of the characters in this chapter are not mine. And lots of random parts of the dialogue are also not mine. Here we go…_

* * *

><p><strong>DON'T CRY, KATARA<strong>

"Watch and learn, Katara," Sokka grinned. "This is how you catch a fish."

They were in a little fishing boat, surrounded by massive glaciers on all sides. She rolled her eyes at her brother, and laughed when his harpoon twisted itself suddenly into a knot. Sokka gawked and began to make angry noises.

"How did you manage to do that?" she asked in amusement, as Sokka attempted to unwind his pretzel of a harpoon.

"Oh, it just happens sometimes," he growled. "You know these harpoons can be temperamental."

They were on top of a glacier now, and the side of it fell straight from the tips of her boots to the choppy, frigid blue waves below. They were probably at least a hundred feet in the air.

"You wouldn't be able to catch anything from way up here anyway, Sokka," she said.

"That's what you think!" Sokka shook his head, chuckling at her ignorance. "What you don't seem to realize is that Master Piandao taught me a lot more than just sword-fighting. He also taught me Waterbending!"

"I didn't know Master Piandao was a Waterbender!" Katara exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah! I didn't tell you?" Sokka looked at her curiously. His harpoon was gone. They were in the middle of a floating block of ice, rocking with the waves. "I told Toph all about it."

"Huh," Katara shrugged. "I guess I just didn't hear about it."

"Hm," Sokka grunted. "Hey, what's that?"

Katara turned. A huge black shadow had fallen over the two of them, and when she looked, she saw a massive globe of ice towering above them. It was perfectly smooth and circular, and the white sunlight caught in it and scattered into a million little diamonds of light.

"It's an iceberg," Sokka declared.

"I can _see _that it's an iceberg," Katara rolled her eyes again. "I'm not blind. You don't have to explain everything to me."

"Maybe there's some meat inside!" Sokka grinned hopefully.

Katara gazed deep into the iceberg. It seemed to get bigger and darker, the deeper she looked. In the very heart of it, miles inside, she finally glimpsed something. A twelve year-old boy with glowing eyes and arrow tattoos. He looked like he was suffocating.

"Aang!" she screamed. She took an axe out of Sokka's hands and immediately began to chop away at the iceberg. "Aang, wait! Just hold on! I'll get you out!"

It was no use. The ice was too thick. It seemed to just get thicker and thicker, the harder and faster she swung the axe at it. Aang's shape was drifting farther from her, getting smaller and smaller. Now he didn't look twelve anymore. He looked like he had when she had last seen him, when he was sixteen. He could see her coming. He was calling for her. But she couldn't reach him. He was too far away. He was dying – there was no way she'd get to him in time.

"Aang!" she shouted again, desperate tears of ice falling from her eyes. "Please, wait! Come back! Don't die!"

The axe broke in her hands with a loud crack – a crack that sounded like lightning. All hope was gone. She couldn't see Aang anymore. All she could do was sit in the ice and sob.

"Wait a minute!" she shouted suddenly. "Sokka, come here! You can Waterbend him out of here!"

"Oh, yeah!" Sokka said, appearing on her left side and munching on seal jerky. "Just hold on a second, Katara. You shouldn't eat and Waterbend at the same time. Master Piandao taught me that."

"Well, hurry up!" she shouted, panicking. "We don't have a lot of time! Aang's going to die!"

"Just hold on a second, Katara," Sokka said again, munching very slowly.

"Here," she cried desperately. "Why don't you just tell me what to do, and _I'll _get him out?"

"Oh, okay," Sokka shrugged, still munching. "Just kick the ice right here. The inner structure of the iceberg should give way if you hit this exact point."

Katara quickly kicked the ice at the point that Sokka had indicated. There was a great mechanical clanking, and in a moment the entire iceberg had fallen to bits around them. Aang landed just on the other side of a sudden hill.

"Aang!" Katara screamed again, scrambling over the hill. When she got to the top, she saw that the other side was covered in grass, rather than ice. They were at the Spirit Oasis in the North Pole. There was the pond with the Koi fish, the Moon and Ocean spirits. She should have known she would find him here! It was so obvious!

"Aang," she breathed, running down the hill. Her heart was pounding, and the hill was so steep that her heart jumped into her throat as she built up momentum on the descent. But at last she got to the bottom, and crawled to Aang, who was lying face-down in the grass. He wasn't moving.

"Please be okay," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Aang, please wake up. You have no idea how long I've been looking for you. Aang, are you still alive?"

_Don't cry, Katara._

She touched his shoulder, hesitating with dread for a moment, and then rolled him over to look into his face. But when she tried to look, there was nothing there.

His face was gone.

* * *

><p>Katara woke up screaming and sweating. She'd fallen asleep on top of her bed sheets, and had thrown half of them to the floor in the effort of her dream. For a few moments she could only lie still, breathing, willing her heart to beat at a reasonable pace.<p>

She had had this dream before. But it had been a while. No doubt her conversation earlier with Zuko had stirred it up again.

Small, sharp tears crept out of her eyes, and she allowed them peacefully to roll down her cheek.

_Don't cry, Katara_.

The worst part was, the voice she always heard in her dreams really was Aang's. It wasn't even her memory reconstructing the sound of his voice out of what it could recall from five years ago. Every time, it was _his _voice. Fully his, without a hint of her own imagination to taint it. She could always see him vividly, every detail, down to the finest nuances: the arch of his shoulders, the knuckles in his hands, the small fold of skin where his arrow tattoo left his neck and began to run up the back of his head. She could always recall his smell. She always felt a tingling pressure in her fingers, as if she really had just touched him.

Katara stood and walked a few paces around the room, stretching and shaking her fingers. She cast a distrustful glance at the bed. Did she dare try to go back to sleep? Judging from the look of the sky outside her window, it was several hours before the sun would rise. She ought to try to get some sleep, or she would be a wreck tomorrow. And if she lost too much sleep, then she would start to see him during the day, while she was awake. It had happened to her before – it was disconcerting, to put it mildly.

After a few moments of bracing herself, Katara crawled back into bed, this time properly situating herself beneath the covers.

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Aang," she tugged at her hair awkwardly, looking away from him. "These shoes aren't really right for dancing. And I'm not sure I know how to – "<p>

"Take my hand," he said simply, smiling.

She hesitated for just a moment, then found she couldn't think of another reason to resist. So she took his hand.

"Okay," she said, smiling back.

He led her out to the dance floor, and they bowed to one another before beginning the dance. But she realized suddenly that they weren't in a cave, as she'd thought – they were on a stage. The stage at the Ember Island Theater. They'd been there all along, and there was a huge audience watching them, whistling at them gleefully as they danced. She hadn't noticed until then, but she thought that Aang probably had known all along.

Katara blushed. "Aang, everyone's watching us."

"Don't worry about them," he said confidently, and his gray eyes looked at her in a way that made her heart beat a little faster. "It's just you and me right now."

She blushed again, but couldn't stop smiling.

Round and round they circled one another, faster and faster. Aang seemed to carry her along, and she seemed to move him forward. Circling and circling. He had hair. His clothes were black. Her dress was white, and so was her hair. Like Princess Yue's – pure white. It wasn't strange. Aang laughed suddenly, and she couldn't help but laugh as well. He took her hand and twirled her, dipped her. She felt hot, but happy.

"I'm sweating," she laughed.

"Me too," he laughed as well.

"It's weird that it would be so warm here at the North Pole," she commented.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded. "But this is a special place."

They somehow went on dancing round and round. Somewhere nearby, Sokka was standing, wearing a fake beard, pointing at them. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear. She thought he was probably making fun of them, and decided it was just as well she couldn't hear him.

The theater was full of grass. Grass and moonlight. The audience was sitting all around them in the grass, watching them dance and circle.

"This _is _a special place," she finally agreed.

"That's why I wanted to dance with you here," Aang explained. Katara realized how much sense that made, and was very glad she'd agreed to dance with him when he asked.

Round and round and round and round they went. The audience seemed happy to see them together.

"What if something happens?" Katara asked suddenly, overcome with an abrupt rush of dread. "Maybe we should stop, Aang."

"Why?" he asked, startled.

She stopped going round and round. She pulled her hand away from his.

"What if something happens?" she said again, full of concern. "I would be too sad. It would be better if I just stopped dancing with you now. That way, if something happens, it won't be so hard."

Suddenly, Azula was there. She came out of the audience, where she'd been sitting the whole time. She was wearing a white theater mask over her face, with painted lips and eyebrows, and she laughed in a strangely deep voice – echoing, like many voices together.

"Didn't I say we would meet again, young Avatar?" Azula chortled. "It's a shame you are no longer a child.

"Don't do it, Azula!" cried the voice of Uncle Iroh. "I know who you really are."

"Yes!" Azula exulted, and her mask changed into a face that appeared to be a blue troll-creature. A moment later, it strangely resembled Zuko. "I am the Moon-Slayer, the Invincible! It is my Destiny!"

"Whatever you do, I'll unleash on you tenfold!" Iroh shouted fiercely, assuming a fighting stance.

"Aang!" cried Katara in alarm, confused. "What's going on? What should we do?"

Aang didn't speak, only looked at her with heavy sorrow. His red headband had become a red blindfold. Quietly, he tied it around his eyes.

"Aang, no!" Katara screamed, full of deep dread, though she wasn't sure what was going to happen.

Azula laughed wickedly again, and her mask changed so that it looked like a mirror image of Katara's own face. She stepped forward and launched a bolt of lightning into his heart.

"No!" Katara shrieked in horror. She ran forward to catch him, for he was suddenly very far away from her, and very high off the ground, plummeting quickly down. He would die from a fall like that! If he wasn't already dead from the lightning bolt. No – she couldn't think of that. She couldn't let him fall. She tried to bend a wave to carry her to him, but she couldn't make one big enough. She couldn't get far enough, or high enough, or close enough. And Aang kept falling, falling, falling. He was going to die – there was no way she would get to him in time.

She caught him somehow; she didn't know how, but she was so relieved that she immediately began to weep. He lay limp and heavy in her arms, and there was a cruel burn from the lightning that seemed to cut directly through the center of his heart. The red blindfold somehow seemed to cover his whole face now. The moon turned a bloody shade of red – the same as the blindfold – and then disappeared from the sky.

"Aang!" Katara sobbed, cradling his lifeless body in her arms. "Aang, just hold on! I can save you. I can heal you. See? We're at the spirit oasis. The water here – it can fix you. Remember? You're going to be all right. You're going to live."

Still, he didn't stir. Katara could only choke out broken sobs, holding him tightly. Her white hair spilled over his face, still hidden by the red blindfold. She carried him carefully toward the spirit oasis pool, and floated gently into the water with him. They floated.

She tried to bend the sacred water in the pool, to heal his wounds. But she couldn't bend. Her bending powers relied on the Moon. He was the Moon, and the Moon was dead.

"I'm sorry, Aang. I didn't mean it. I was going to say yes. Please, just come back." Tears streamed from her eyes, falling over him. She couldn't save him; she could only hold him and cry. The red blindfold seemed to be filling with water. She reached to remove it.

_Don't cry, Katara._

She tore off the blindfold. His face was gone.

* * *

><p>She was in a cave. Her torch was burning quickly, and she only had one. When the light went out, she would be trapped in darkness. Somewhere, rocks were falling. She could hear Sokka calling her name, but he was far away, and the rocks were falling between them.<p>

"I'm okay, Sokka!" she shouted, though she wasn't sure he could hear her. "I'll find another way out of the caves! Just go on without me!"

She couldn't hear Sokka's voice the next moment. Perhaps there were too many rocks for her to hear him anymore. Perhaps he'd heard what she said and had stopped shouting, leaving her to find her own way alone. Either way, she knew she couldn't waste a moment. She had to keep moving forward, before her torch burnt out and left her in utter darkness.

"There must be a way out of these caves," she said aloud. Her voice bounced off the rocks again and again, until it sounded like a hundred voices. The voices of all those hundreds that had been trapped, lost in these caves forever. A nauseous feeling crept into her stomach.

"I just have to keep going," she told herself firmly. If she stopped trying, she would surely be lost forever too.

"Momma, don't leave me here!" cried a voice that made her heart freeze. She turned and saw Tenzin. He was trapped beneath a pile of rocks, and more were about to fall, burying him completely.

"Tenzin!" she shrieked in terror. Every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming – her very blood was burning. With a strength at least ten times her own, she rushed to her son's side and began to dig him out. Beads of sweat formed on her brow with the effort and the savage fright. Her baby. Her baby. All she could think was her baby, trapped in the rocks. The fear was so tangible that it actually hurt, like a sharp knife twisting slowly in her heart.

"I'll save you, baby!" she cried, digging desperately at the rocks. "Don't be afraid! I'll save you!"

"Momma, help!" the boy screamed, weeping with fear. She couldn't bear it. It was too much. It was too much pain, to see him so helpless and afraid. A ferocious snarl began in her toes, swelling in her heart and bursting from her throat. It fed more strength into her muscles. What she wouldn't give to be an Earthbender! Where was Toph when you needed her?

She was tossing away the rocks at an incredible rate, even huge ones that must have weighed at least twice as much as she did. It didn't faze her. Her only thought was of keeping Tenzin in her sight, of setting him free from this trap, of holding him in her arms and making him feel safe again. But no matter how quickly she removed the rocks, it seemed more were falling, and Tenzin was always just on the brink of freedom but never quite able to make it through.

"Momma!" he sobbed.

"Tenzin!" she gasped, breathing rapidly with the panic and exertion. "Please don't cry! It'll be okay! I'll get you out in a second, just hold on!"

She must have worked at the rocks for hours, but there was no progress at all. If anything, Tenzin seemed to be getting more and more firmly lodged in the stones. Katara began to scream wildly as she dug. Her baby – the torch was burning to the ends – her baby - the light was flickering, dimming – the darkness was coming.

"Momma!"

"Tenzin!"

The light went out. Tenzin fell silent.

Katara unleashed a savage roar, weeping violently and still clawing madly at the rocks. She collapsed to the floor of the cave, shuddering and moaning in despair. Her heart felt like it had stopped beating.

Suddenly, in the darkness, there was a strange light. A white light, like the light of the moon. It sent renewed life and vigor into her limbs, and encouraged her heart to keep beating. She opened her eyes and saw Tenzin, standing before her. He was perfectly well, and smiling. His blue eyes were glowing. The light seemed to be coming from him.

"Get up, Momma," he said. "I'm okay, see? You saved me."

"But," she gasped, gathering him into his arms and planning never to let him go again. "But I thought you were gone."

"No, Momma," Tenzin laughed, as if she were silly to have worried so much.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded, rather fiercely after having suffered such an ordeal. "You shouldn't be wandering around in these caves by yourself!"

"I was looking for Daddy," the boy replied serenely.

"Is he in here?" Katara gasped.

"Yeah," Tenzin nodded. "Follow me, Momma."

He took her hand in his little one and began to lead her down the corridors of the caves. He had arrows tattooed on his hands. He began to run – faster, faster, faster. They were soon running faster than the wind itself, nearly lifting off the ground with the velocity.

At the end of the tunnel was a huge stone door, lying open, with a set of stairs descending beyond it. On the door was a carven image of the lovers Oma and Shu, kneeling and kissing one another. This was their tomb.

"In here," Tenzin said. "Hurry, Momma. There isn't much time. We could get stuck in here forever if we don't hurry."

Beyond the opening, Princess Zara was standing. She looked exactly like she had in the painting, though her eyes were uncovered at last, and they were blue. Her dress was black – so was Katara's.

"Save him, Katara," the Princess commanded urgently. "It's up to you. Quickly, before you run out of time."

Katara looked and saw, there in the center of the tomb, Aang lying on his back, wrapped in white clothes, and Zara's red blindfold covering his eyes once more.

"Aang!" Katara shouted, running to him as quickly as her feet would carry her. She knew they didn't have much time, but it seemed to take a strangely and agonizingly long time for her to reach the center of the tomb. At last she did, and there was Aang. She could touch him. He was real this time.

"Aang, wake up," she begged. She removed the blindfold. His eyes were closed, and he didn't stir. "Aang, please, you have to wake up. We don't have much time!"

He groaned slightly, and opened his eyes, just a slit. They lit up the moment they saw her face.

"Will you go penguin sledding with me?" he asked very suddenly.

"Of course I will!" she laughed. "But first, we have to get out of this cave. Come on, hurry."

"Momma, hurry!" Tenzin urged from the entrance of the tomb. A strange black shape, long and many-legged, crept along the wall behind Tenzin. Tenzin didn't seem to notice it, or care. But Katara felt a surge of panic quake through her at the sight.

"What was that thing?" she shouted. She couldn't see it anymore, but she knew it was hungry. It was coming for Aang.

"Katara," Aang said very quietly."What if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen," she declared firmly. They would get out. They had to.

"Save him, Katara," cried Zara from the cave entrance.

"Save him!" cried Tenzin.

"Save him!" cried another young woman, with long brown hair, who appeared suddenly beside Zara.

"Save him!" cried an older woman, with solemn eyes, who appeared suddenly beside the nameless younger woman.

"Save him!" cried a sudden long line of people, all wearing black, standing side by side next to Zara and the other women. Some of the people were women, some were men. All wore black. They seemed the same. Their number seemed endless, stretching so far back that Katara could not see the end. Their eyes began to glow in unison.

"Katara," Aang said, with grave urgency. "Will you go penguin sledding with me?"

Katara felt the panic growing again. That black thing with the legs was lurking in the darkness, somewhere where she couldn't see it. She didn't have any water to bend. How could she save him, when she didn't even know how?

"Don't leave me, Aang," she finally whispered, feeling the tears falling from her eyes once more. "Don't leave me and Tenzin alone again. Can't you see we need you?"

"The light's running out," Aang said solemnly. He touched her hand. "What can we do?"

"Don't leave us," Katara sobbed. The dread in her stomach already told her what was inevitably going to happen.

"Save him!" cried everyone. "Save him, Katara!"

Aang kissed her very suddenly. She tried to hold on to him, but he slipped through her grasp. He slipped, fell straight downward. Down into the waters of the spirit pool at the North Pole oasis. For that was where they were now.

"Aang, no!" she screamed. Not again. It couldn't happen again.

"Save him, Katara!" shouted Tenzin and the line of glowing-eyed people. They were now standing around her, arranged in a spiral shape, waiting to see what she would do.

Katara jumped into the water headfirst. She swam down, down, down. The darkness overtook her, but still she swam. She had to keep going. She had no choice. What could she do?

She found herself in another cave. A cave within the cave. She descended the steps cautiously.

"Hello?" she called nervously. The shadows twitched.

_Don't cry, Katara._

Aang seemed to fall straight out of the air, landing in a heap at her feet. A deep, cruel voice chuckled maliciously somewhere high above her head. She screamed and turned him over with panic and dread. His face was gone.

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>sure <em>you're ready?"

She tried not to laugh. He looked like he was going to have a heart-attack.

"Are you okay?" she asked, laughing despite her efforts not to.

He managed a feeble chuckle, his eyes wide and anxious. He was tall now.

"But, Katara – what if something happens?" he asked with concern. "What if I don't come back?"

"Aang, don't say that," she commanded him sternly. His gray eyes searched the stony ground of the cave anxiously. She took a quick breath and kissed him with unequivocal certainty. He looked quite surprised for a moment, then carefully leaned into it. When she pulled away, he was blushing.

She felt the kiss, and the bright moonlight, fortify her courage. Solemnly, she took his tattooed hand in her own, and began to lead him down into the cave. Down, down the steps, deep into darkness.

"Show no fear," she said to herself, and it seemed a thousand familiar voices were echoing it inside her head. "Show no emotion at all."

The descent into the cave took hours, while the darkness grew ever thicker around them. Down, down, down. Aang didn't speak during the journey. She could feel his hand in hers, but even still she kept turning, looking back to make sure he was still there. He always was, though his face showed no expression.

"Don't worry, Aang," she smiled hopefully, hoping to reassure him. "I've never done this before either, but it's nothing to be nervous about. Stop thinking so much."

He didn't reply. She felt a little sad.

At the bottom of the steps, the cave opened out into a huge space – huge enough to have a sky and a moon, and a wide expanse of frigid ocean. They were standing on the exposed surface of one of Sokka's submarines. The wall of the North Pole citadel was just before them. There was a whole fleet of submarines beside them, moving toward the wall of the city steadily. A large, round iceberg floated alongside their submarine. Tenzin was inside it, spinning in circles and laughing. He was chasing Momo.

"Tenzin!" Katara scolded. "Come out of that iceberg."

The little boy sighed. "Oh, fine."

He lifted Aang's old glider in his hands and sliced through the center of the iceberg. It split straight down the middle, and he fluttered out of it, as if he were hatching from an egg. He floated through the air, carrying himself with the glider, and alighted gracefully on the surface of the submarine, just alongside Katara and Aang. He laughed loudly, and tugged on the folds of Aang's Air Nomad clothing.

"Will you go penguin sledding with me?" he asked Aang.

Aang's expressionless face suddenly burst into a wide grin, as if Tenzin had broken some kind of a spell over him. Aang's arrow tattoos were gone. Now they covered Tenzin.

"Sure, I love penguin sledding!" Aang exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement. "Will you teach me how to use that fancy glider?"

"Yeah, it's easy!" Tenzin grinned.

"Aang! Tenzin!" Katara scolded, rolling her eyes. "This is no time for playing around."

"Aww," they both whined pathetically at her.

"Oh, come on," she shook her head, grinning at the two of them. They were just alike. Tenzin was wearing Aang's old Air Nomad outfit. It fit him perfectly now.

The submarines were already carrying them into the Spirit Oasis. Katara could see the patch of green glowing in the distance.

"Now, look, you two!" she laughed. "You guys distracted me so much I almost didn't notice that we're already here!"

A hundred other submarines were approaching the oasis behind theirs. Riding atop each one, there stood two figures: a man and a woman, dressed in black and white. The black one's eyes were always glowing, no matter if it was the man or the woman. They were coming to watch.

"There's so many people," Katara blushed.

"Don't worry about them," Aang smiled. "It's just you and me right now."

Katara could see Sokka and Suki flying toward the oasis on Appa's back, passing over their heads.

"I can't believe Sokka made it!" she cried with joy. "I thought he wouldn't come! And look, there's Gran Gran, and Pakku!"

"And your parents," Aang added, pointing toward Appa, who seemed quite big enough to carry the entire population of the South Pole on his back.

"Mom too!" Katara could feel her eyes welling up with tears at the sight of her mother, sitting alongside Hakoda in Appa's saddle. They looked so happy. "She was able to come! I haven't seen her in so long! I was sure she would never be able to be here today."

"Of course," Aang grinned. "I made sure she could be here."

"You did this?" she gasped, tears still falling from her eyes. "Aang – I don't even know what to say."

"Don't cry, Katara," he said quietly, wiping away one of her tears.

"Momma, watch what I can do!" Tenzin took the glider and leaped high into the air, circling in a spiral pattern above their heads.

"Be careful!" she and Aang shouted together.

The grand procession was quickly approaching the oasis. The Moon even grew larger, drawing closer to see the ceremony. Katara sighed, feeling its cool power pass through her veins. Everyone was here. Everyone, except – ?

"Aang," she asked suddenly. "Where's Zuko?"

"He's here too," Aang replied, pointing toward the oasis. There, she could see Zuko, his little daughter Ursa, and Toph, all standing together, waiting for them, along with Uncle Iroh. Iroh was arrayed in a splendid Water Tribe priest's outfit. Zuko was playing the Tsungi horn somberly as they approached. His head was shaved, save for a single black ponytail. His scar was gone. Iroh was sipping tea and singing the deep, gravelly lyrics to Zuko's tune. Toph and Ursa were tapping their feet out of rhythm.

"Is this okay with Zuko?" she asked Aang, worried.

Aang nodded. "Yeah, we talked about it. He said he was waiting for this to happen."

Katara didn't feel entirely comfortable. She was very glad Zuko was there, but wished perhaps he was not going to be standing so close to her.

They arrived at the oasis. Katara had flowers woven into her hair. Tenzin followed behind her, along with Sokka and Suki, carrying the hem of her white gown. She approached the oasis from the eastern bridge, glancing at the familiar black and white Koi fish circling one another in the pond. Aang came over the western bridge, and stood by the pond waiting for her. Iroh smiled gently at the two of them. Katara was happy to have him as their priest.

"Show no fear," said Tenzin.

"I gotta pee," said Sokka.

"No potty breaks," said Tenzin with authority.

"Show no fear," said all the hundreds and thousands of black-and-white people that had come to this place to watch. They all stood around, arranged in a spiral pattern, alternating black, white, black, white. The spiral seemed to stretch all the way up to the Moon, which was very large and near now.

Something about the tune Zuko played on the Tsungi horn filled Katara with a nauseous sense of dread as she approached the pond. There was something dark – there, lurking in the waters of the pond! She saw a large black shape, passing through the shadows. It was waiting. It was hungry! It was waiting for Aang!

"_Such a lovely face,_" said the Tsungi horn's tune.

"Aang!" Katara shouted. No one else seemed to realize what was going to happen. No one else moved. No one else did anything at all! Katara should have known – she should have known this would happen! It was all her fault! Because she'd worried too much. Because she'd been paying too much attention to Zuko, and Sokka, and Tenzin. She'd forgotten to tell Aang to show no fear! He didn't know! He didn't know!

"Aang, run!" she screamed. "Get away from the pond!"

She tried to run towards him, to save him before it was too late. But somehow – she didn't know how it happened – he was no longer on the land, standing beside the pond. He was in the water, standing directly in the center of the pond. His eyes began to glow. He slipped straight downward, vanishing beneath the ripples.

"No!" she shrieked, collapsing by the side of the pond. Everyone else seemed frozen, perhaps because they didn't understand. No one understood! They all just stood there, and she had to do everything herself! Why couldn't anyone understand? Why was it always up to her?

"Aang, come back!" she screamed, wading into the water. The flowers fell out of her hair. "Don't leave me here! Don't leave us alone!"

"He's gone, Katara," said Zuko behind her.

"No!" she snarled at him. "I'm going to save him! You can't stop me!"

"You can't save him, Katara," Zuko said, and began to play the Tsungi horn again.

"Aang!" Katara cried out again, digging desperately through the water as if it were a pile of stones or dirt. "Aang, don't leave us! I was going to say yes! I was going to say yes! Just come back, and you'll see! Come back!"

"Momma, will _you _go penguin sledding with me?" asked Tenzin.

"I gotta pee!" shouted Sokka urgently.

Aang's body floated, face down and lifeless, to the surface of the water. Katara clutched at him and began to sob uncontrollably. It was too late. He didn't know. Now it was too late.

The spiral of black-and-white people stood around and watched the scene unfold.

"You didn't save him," said all the white-clothed people. The eyes of all the black-clothed people had ceased to glow when Aang floated to the surface. The Moon had vanished.

"It's too late, Katara," said Zuko.

Katara wept bitter tears of rage and pain, holding Aang's body close to her in the water. She couldn't look at his face. She knew what she would find. But she couldn't leave him face down like this in the water, either. She had to turn him over. She had to look. This would never end unless she looked.

"Look at his face, Momma," Tenzin commanded her solemnly.

Katara sobbed helplessly, her limbs shaking. Her father stood nearby, watching. But her mother's back was turned.

"Look at his face, Momma," Tenzin said again, quietly.

She choked. She wasn't sure she had the strength to look. Not again. She knew what she would find.

But she had to. It was the only way to escape. She hesitated, closing her eyes and clutching for a moment at the folds in his clothing. She shuddered – and turned him over.

_Don't cry, Katara_.

A wail of despair burst from her throat.

His face was gone.

* * *

><p>Katara slept fitfully throughout the rest of the night, sweating until her sheets were all sticking to her skin, tossing and thrashing until all her pillows and some of her blankets were scattered about the floor. Her hair clung to her sticky brow; her fingers and eyelids twitched wildly. She murmured and groaned and shouted and sobbed in her sleep, but never fully returned to consciousness between each dream. And she had others as well, before morning arrived – all ending the exact same horrible way. Hearing his voice telling her not to cry, then uncovering his face, only to find there was no face there.<p>

But the last dream she had, which certainly did not last nearly long enough for her liking, was a dream in which she was standing in her own bedroom, watching herself sleep. By this time she'd wasted most of the night with dreams full of terror and despair. But after surviving each one, at last she arrived here. And as she watched herself sleeping, she saw Aang come and lie down beside her. There were chains on his feet; but he put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. She knew this was the only time he could come to be with her.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," she whispered to him, feeling ashamed. "I'll try to get here faster next time."

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly. "I'm just happy to see you."

"You aren't going to leave us again, are you?"

"Well… I don't want to."

"I _knew _you wouldn't want to. I knew it."

"But I can't help it if I have to. I'm sorry. Will you be mad?"

"No. Just sad."

"You won't forget me, will you?"

"No, Aang. I can't."

She began to weep in the bed, and her tears soaked the mattress in a place that was already soaked with tears and sweat from a previous dream.

"Where have you been?" she finally asked, a little bitterly.

"I don't know," he replied, a little sadly.

"Don't you know how much we need you? Tenzin needs you. And so do I. How could you just leave us like this?"

"I don't want to leave you."

She was trying hard to hold the tears inside, and her voice came out strained from the effort. "I didn't mean what I said before, you know. I was going to say yes. As soon as you came back, I was going to say yes. But you never came back."

"It's okay. I know," he said.

"See, Aang?" she rolled over and pulled at the collar of her nightgown, to show him the necklace she wore. "See, this is the one you made for me. I've kept it with me all this time."

"I know," he said. "It's okay."

"I'm just so stupid," she murmured bitterly. She couldn't restrain the tears any longer, and they rolled down her cheeks relentlessly. She felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Aang. I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry, Katara."

So she stopped crying, and sighed. And knowing he was there, if only for that brief time, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for the last meager stretch of night she had left to savor.


	10. An Encounter

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I'm glad people are actually reading it. To be honest I was a little afraid people would stop reading after the first couple of chapters and never get to the more exciting parts. So, for all those who've gotten this far, thanks!_

_DISCLAIMER: "Avatar the Last Airbender" = not mine. At least, not until I get myself a good genie._

* * *

><p><strong>AN ENCOUNTER<strong>

Zuko stood outside her bedroom door, breathing deeply for a moment. He'd heard her screaming in her sleep almost all night long. She hadn't had nightmares like that in a long time. It was difficult for him not feel a little guilty – it was probably his fault, for starting their argument yesterday.

At last, he opened the door and stepped quietly inside. She was fast asleep, as he'd expected her to be. Most of the items that belonged on her bed – the pillows and blankets – were thrown wildly around the room. Katara herself was nothing but a crumpled, disheveled little ball of a person, wrapped up tightly in herself, sideways on the bed, her toes dangling over the edge of the mattress. But she had a peaceful expression on her face, which alleviated some of Zuko's guilt. At least, it seemed, she had come through the nightmares and found a comforting place to settle down in her mind.

He sat on the side of the bed, and brushed one of her wild locks of brown hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. There was something charming about how tousled she was. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She stirred slightly, and smiled.

"Morning," he said.

She sighed blissfully. "Morning, Aang."

A tremor passed through him.

"Zuko," he corrected her. His eyes quickly found a spot on the floor where the sunlight landed, and he focused his attention completely on that for a moment.

Katara quickly jerked into full consciousness and looked at Zuko, rapidly processing what it was she'd just said and coming to the realization that it was too late to take it back or excuse it. Her cheeks flushed with remorse.

"Sorry," she said blankly after several minutes. There was nothing else she could say.

"It's okay," Zuko grunted. He stood and walked back toward the door. "I'll go make sure Tenzin is awake for breakfast."

"Okay," Katara sighed, staring hard down at the bed sheets that she'd abused so abominably. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

* * *

><p>Later that morning, Katara declared her intention to take Tenzin out of the palace. She wanted to drop by the marketplace, and she needed to get out for air anyway. Her stomach still felt queasy and her head was throbbing from her long night of suffering through nightmares. Getting out of the palace, even just for a couple of hours, would at least distract her. And Tenzin had been growing twitchy recently. He was due for a little change of pace.<p>

Zuko always protested whenever she wanted to leave the palace. He and Katara had fought about it before. She knew it was because his deranged sister was still running loose somewhere in the world, and Mai had only been going for a casual stroll through the city when she'd had her fatal run in with Azula. But Katara wasn't afraid of Azula – after all, she'd beaten her before, when Azula had certainly already been far past the brink of sanity, as well as ten times as powerful as normal.

Besides, Katara would have her guard up; Mai hadn't had any reason to be wary. And, at any rate, it was impossible that he should ask them never to leave the palace. Katara may have survived being cooped up, though unhappily. But Tenzin was small and restless, and an Airbender to boot. He needed freedom and open spaces as much as he needed food and water. It was in his nature.

Zuko didn't bother trying to stop Katara this morning, though. He'd had the argument with her too many times before, and no matter the outcome, she always just went and did whatever she wanted. He was tired, and every part of him felt heavy today. And the thought of having the place to himself for a couple of hours did sound particularly tempting to him at the moment.

"You could always come with us, Zuko," Katara offered, annoyed at his moping, though she secretly hoped that he would turn down the offer. She really wanted to just get away from everything – Zuko included – for a little while. Besides, he'd just be in a bad mood all day.

"No, thanks," Zuko muttered, knowing very well that she didn't want him around this morning, and not caring. He didn't very much want her around either. "I'll stay here. I have business to take care of, anyway."

"Okay," Katara shrugged. "You know, though… You ought to get out more. Like in the old days. I think the people miss seeing their Firelord around the city. It gives them a sense of comfort."

"Thanks for the advice," Zuko grumbled, letting her words immediately slip away into forgetfulness. He wasn't interested in being lectured today, especially not by her.

Katara didn't attempt to speak to him anymore. She knew he was still feeling injured from their argument yesterday, and from the blunder she'd made when he'd woken her up that morning. She felt guilty about that, but she was also starting to become exasperated. It was just an accident, a slip of the tongue. She had been barely conscious when she'd said it. And anyway, it probably wouldn't have happened if he hadn't brought up the "Aang issue" yesterday and stirred all those dreams back up in the first place. He could be so sensitive sometimes.

"Where are we going, Momma?" Tenzin asked excitedly as she helped him dress for their outing.

"Anywhere you want," she grinned at him, ruffling his black hair. "I thought we'd just take a little walk through the market, stop for lunch later, and see where we end up. And I was thinking – maybe if you're _really _good – I'll take you to pick out a new pet."

Tenzin all but squealed with ecstasy. "Really?"

"Maybe. But you have to extra good today. And you _cannot_ have a baby moose-lion, no matter how cute they are. Now… what are the rules for going out?"

"Don't talk to strangers," Tenzin recited in a bored tone, counting each off with his fingers. "Don't go wandering off by myself. Don't take anything from someone I don't know. Don't play with the air."

She nodded, especially at the last rule. She'd always been careful to keep Tenzin's talents a secret – if anyone discovered that he was an Airbender, the _last _Airbender, it would be quite simple to deduce the identity of his father, the lost Avatar. And, aside from the constant menace of Azula, Katara still also feared those in the world who might bear ill feelings toward the Avatar. Some obscure remnant of Ozai loyalists; someone who had lost their influence when Aang defeated Ozai; some members of the older generation who still held a grudge against Aang for his hundred-year disappearance; and those who, for one reason or another, simply thought that the world would be a better place without the Avatar. As a force of goodness in the world, the Avatar inevitably stirred up enemies as well as friends wherever he went. The fact that Aang's last disappearance had never been explained only increased her wariness. She didn't want to put Tenzin in any more danger than he already was by making it public that he was the missing Avatar's only son.

"And what if something happens?" she went on.

"Tell you right away if I see something strange. If we get separated, then call for help as loud as I can. And always stay where there's lots of people."

"All right. Ready to go?"

"Let's go!" he shouted, practically dragging her out the door.

* * *

><p>"Momma! Momma! Look! Hurry!"<p>

Katara was distracted at a book vendor's stall, deeply engrossed in an ancient Water Tribe scroll concerning the origins of the spirit oasis at the North Pole. A painted illustration of the Koi fish, Tui and La, had caught her eye as they'd been meandering through the streets. It was too much of a coincidence to pass up. She kept Tenzin carefully in the corner of her eye, but didn't look fully up at him.

"That's great, honey," she murmured.

"But you didn't even look!" the boy whined.

She glanced quickly aside at him. He was just standing at the edge of the stall, pouting. "That's great," she said, just to satisfy him.

"But I wasn't _doing _it then!" he cried, stomping his feet.

"How much for this scroll?" she asked the merchant.

He was a cranky-looking old man, with a wrinkle for each one of his books. He wore a rather awkward square hat, and looked as if his best friends were all books, and that he despised all his customers because no one knew how to properly appreciate them like he did.

"That is a priceless historical piece of Northern Water Tribe literature!" he scowled. "And you ask me to insult it by subjecting it to a mere monetary value?"

"Well – yeah. You're selling it." Katara furrowed her brow at him, genuinely baffled. "How about twenty gold pieces?"

"Twenty!" the vendor scoffed. "You've got to be joking me! Make it seventy-five, and then I _may _consider sacrificing it to an unappreciative layperson like yourself."

"You don't make many successful sales, do you?" Katara could help but ask, crossing her arms in irritation.

"Momma! Hurry, look!"

"I'll give you twenty-five."

"No. Seventy-five." The man was adamant.

"I thought you said you wouldn't subject it to one monetary value?" she objected, resisting the urge to smirk.

"Momma, really, you have to see this!"

"Tenzin, can't you wait a second? I'm sort of in the middle of – "

She finally turned to look directly at her son with a scolding eye, but what she saw him doing nearly stopped her heart.

Just in that small amount of time that she hadn't been scrupulously watching him, Tenzin had conjured up not one, not even two – but _five _miniature tornadoes, which were dancing wildly around his toes, stirring up the dust. Strangers passing by in the street were glancing at the boy, doing double-takes, rubbing their eyes to be sure they were seeing it all correctly. Tenzin was laughing with unbridled delight, shifting his feet to get out of the way of the little cyclones.

"_Tenzin_!" she shrieked in horror.

Tenzin jumped in surprise, and disaster struck. Startled by Katara's outburst, Tenzin lost control of the spinning air, and those five harmless little twisters all collided together and burst into a very substantial gust of wind. It was enough to launch the five-year old backwards, out of the book-vendor's stall and across the street, where he crashed directly into a wooden cart and knocked a large quantity of cabbages into the dirty street.

"No!" wailed the man who owned the cart. "My cabbages!"

Katara was already at her son's side, her heart thudding in her chest. She picked him up off the ground and clutched him tightly to herself.

"Tenzin!" she cried, fierce with fright. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, Momma, I'm fine," Tenzin grumbled, rubbing his eye in annoyance.

"Stop rubbing your eye!" she scolded. "What were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself! You could have hurt someone else! What's our rule about playing like that in the city?"

"Um… don't," Tenzin mumbled sheepishly.

"Don't you _ever _do anything like that again, you understand me?"

"Yes, Momma."

Much to Katara's dismay, she suddenly realized that a large crowd was collecting around the scene, wondering what in the world had just happened. Whispers were circulating rapidly. _Did you see what happened? No, you? Was that boy just Airbending? No, that's impossible! Isn't that the Water Tribe girl who lives in the palace? Isn't that the Firelord's son?_

Katara willed herself not to panic. She could handle this. How could she handle this?

"I hope you know that you're going to have to pay for these ruined cabbages!" the merchant fumed.

"Of course," Katara said, trying not to flush with humiliation. She should just pay the man and leave, get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible. With shaking fingers, she opened her pouch and dug for her money. "I'm sorry for all this. How much will it be?"

"Don't worry," said a soft voice behind her. "I've got it. Here you are, sir. I think this should cover the damage."

Katara and Tenzin both turned around in surprise and saw a somewhat enigmatic stranger, entirely wrapped in a brown cloak so that only his eyes were visible, approach the cabbage merchant and set a sizeable clinking bag in his hand.

The cabbage merchant looked at the stranger suspiciously, then glanced into the bag. An instant later his eyes lit up.

"That'll be just fine," the merchant declared gleefully, quickly tying up the bag and slipping it into his breast pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you!"

The stranger knelt so that he was on eye-level with Tenzin, and then said in a voice loud enough for most of the crowd to hear:

"Now, son, what have I told you about leaping around like that? You know your mother doesn't like you doing that."

"Son?" Tenzin cocked his eyebrows at the stranger. "But, I'm not your – "

"Sh," Katara hastily placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, listen to your father," she commanded him. Tenzin gave her a bewildered look, but he didn't protest anymore.

The crowd quickly grew bored, just as Katara hoped they would. The cabbage merchant wasn't angry anymore, and apparently this wasn't the Firelord's son, just an ordinary kid. And of course he hadn't been Airbending – just leaping about. There weren't any more Airbenders. That would be unheard of.

Katara sighed with relief as the people slowly dispersed, doing her best to ignore the few lingering stares.

"Thank you so much," she breathed quietly, as soon as she felt it safe enough to breathe. "You saved me a lot of trouble. How can I repay you?"

"No need," the stranger said. Then, in a hushed voice: "This boy is an Airbender."

Katara's relief instantly transformed into alert defensiveness. She put her arms on Tenzin's shoulders and held him protectively close to herself. Laughing a little too loudly, she scoffed at the stranger. "Ha! Ha, right. Of _course _he is! And I'm a flying hog-monkey! That's a good one."

Tenzin chuckled nervously, perplexed at his mother's behavior. He had no idea what was going on, but it all made him a little uncomfortable.

Katara knew she'd always been a terrible bluffer. The stranger didn't laugh, only stared very hard at her. His eyes were gray.

"Don't worry," he whispered finally. "I won't tell."

She fell into silence, staring very hard at him, trying to discern who he was and what he might be after. Why did he hide his face? There was something very surreal about it all.

He held out a hand to shake farewell. Reluctantly, she reached out and shook his hand, still scrutinizing him carefully. But for a moment she let her eyes drop to their hands, and sucked in her breath. Through the folds of brown cloth that he had wrapped all the way down his arm to his knuckles, she caught a glimpse of something. She couldn't be sure, but it looked like – no, it couldn't be! – an arrow tattoo?

He hastily pulled his hand away, bowing to her politely. Her heart was twisting itself into a knot and was in the process of trying to escape from her via her throat, her stomach, anywhere. She couldn't speak for a moment, and when she found her voice, it was dried up and small. She hardly dared to whisper the name –

"Aang?"

But he was gone. He turned and, with suspiciously light steps, vanished down a side street.

Katara felt like screaming.

Without stopping to think it through fully or explain the situation to Tenzin, she scooped her son up into her arms and took off after the stranger as fast as she could manage.

"Aang!" she shouted. Her voice carried loudly through the streets. She'd forgotten all her caution for the moment – the fear that someone would hear her yelling the Avatar's name, that someone would recognize her, was suddenly far from her mind. Her mind could only scream – _Aang. _She had to catch the stranger; she had to see his face.

It couldn't be him!

But it _had _to be!

Why hadn't she recognized his voice? Why would he hide his face, and run away from her?

"What's going on?" Tenzin cried, jostling in her arms.

But she couldn't stop to explain, and though she struggled with the exertion of carrying him, she couldn't put him down and slow her pace to match his small steps. She rushed, panting, down the street that the stranger had disappeared into. For a moment, she thought she glimpsed him slipping into yet another, smaller side street. But when she reached the street, he was nowhere to be seen. He'd left them alone, again.

For a moment, Katara could do nothing but stand still and breathe. Every part of her was shaking, and she felt a bit like she'd just fallen through thin ice and was fighting, against the icy shock, to get back to the surface again.

_Breathe. Breathe._

"Momma?" Tenzin said softly, looking into his mother's face with deep concern. She realized that a steady stream of tears had begun to fall from her eyes, trickling down her cheeks and soaking her collar.

She knew this feeling. Years ago, she and Aang and Sokka had all once gotten lost in a strange swamp in the Earth Kingdom. They'd been separated, and while they'd wandered, looking for one another, each of them had seen a strange vision in the swamp. Katara had seen her mother. She vividly remembered that rush of recognition, the screaming thoughts that had told her it was impossible, it couldn't be – yet there she was! Katara had run after her mother, weeping tears of joy and calling out for her. But when she'd finally reached the place, she'd found nothing there but a tree stump.

Yes, she knew this feeling. This crushing feeling. The sensation of soaring impossibly high one moment, and plummeting to the ground the next.

But this time, there was no mystical swamp to explain what she'd just seen. They were just in the city – nothing mystical about it. So what had just happened?

Finally, finally, Katara remembered how to move her own muscles. She returned Tenzin to the ground, and scrubbed her face with her sleeve.

"Sorry, baby," she sobbed quietly. "I think it's time for us to go back home."

"We're not gonna get a new pet?" the boy asked in disappointment.

"Not today," she sighed. "Come on, let's go."

She took his hand and led him back the way they'd come, past the book vendor, who looked relieved that Katara did not attempt to buy the scroll a second time.


	11. Questions and Answers

_DISCLAIMER: "Avatar the Last Airbender" does not belong to me and I am not making any money with it... Just wasting time, really. But it's fun._

_Also, just wanted to add this:  
><em>**Old!Katara:**_ **"Tenzin has always been... rather **_**serious."**

*grin*

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><p><strong>QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS<strong>

Katara lay curled in a ball on the floor, staring up at the painting of Avatar Tenzin as if her heart would stop the moment she looked away. She could hear Zuko's angry footfalls coming from all the way down the hall. She wasn't surprised. She'd been expecting him.

"What happened?" he demanded fiercely.

"What do you mean?" she murmured in a dead voice.

"Tenzin told me about the accident in the market today," he shouted impatiently.

"Then why are you asking me?" she sighed, closing her eyes tightly to block everything out.

"Didn't I always tell you something like this would happen, Katara?" he cried furiously. "What's wrong with you? It's like you don't even care! I'm the one who always kept your secret, about who Tenzin's father really is, even though it means I have to put up with people thinking things about me that I don't want them to think. But I don't care – I've let it go. And now you go off frolicking through the streets and let something like this happen? What if Azula had been there? What if Tenzin had done something worse, or got hurt, or been kidnapped?"

Katara didn't respond. Just breathed.

"Well?" Zuko shouted. "You aren't going to say anything at all?"

"Zuko," she finally whispered. "I think I saw Aang."

Zuko was silent. She wondered whether he was shocked, or angry, or hurt, or confused. Probably all of the above. She wondered which was more prominent.

"What?" he gasped.

Ah, so it was shock. Shock had been winning out with her, too.

"I think I saw Aang," she repeated, only slightly louder than before.

"Where?" he whispered. Now it seemed his confusion was going to win out over the shock; though his shock was still putting up a good fight.

"In the market," she replied.

"I _know _in the market, but – how? _What_?" Aha. Now the hurt had come to join the party.

"There was a stranger who helped us," she explained, barely believing the words that were coming out of her mouth. She almost wanted to laugh, but then she didn't really after all. "I couldn't see his face. But he – I thought I saw – Airbender tattoos on his hand. But he just disappeared, and didn't tell us who he was, or anything. I couldn't get a good enough look at him."

"Katara, are you _sure_?"

"No." One tear, with a will of its own, braved the journey down her face.

"So you put Tenzin into danger just because you _thought _you saw someone who _might _have had an Airbender tattoo on his hand?" Zuko growled. And, there it was. Anger. The complete set.

Katara didn't have anything left to say. She just remained curled up on the floor, hoping Zuko would leave her alone.

"Have you lost your mind?" he shouted after a moment.

"Maybe," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She found it more than probable that the whole encounter had only been in her head. But she hadn't lost enough sleep yet to be hallucinating about seeing Aang, so that could only mean one thing: she was indeed losing her mind, officially. She wondered that it had taken so long for it to happen.

She heard a poof behind her, and felt a burst of warmth on her back. Zuko was blowing fire through his nostrils again. He always did that when he was frustrated.

"I guess you're just gonna stay here and stare at the wall, then, huh?" he said unhappily. "Fine. Stare as long as you need to. When you're ready to come back to the land of the living, I'll be waiting."

He left. Katara breathed. Slowly, carefully – analyzing the air as it flowed out of her lungs. Silence engulfed her like an old blanket. Avatar Tenzin's eyes glowed sympathetically at her from the wall. Yes, it was hard, he seemed to say. So hard. He knew. He knew.

"Momma?" a tiny voice piped up behind her. This time she unfolded herself and turned.

"Yes, baby?" she said.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked timidly.

"Of course. Come on, sit down next to me."

Tenzin came and sat down on the floor beside her, folding his legs methodically, and glancing up at his namesake on the wall. He did not turn his blue eyes to Katara, and didn't speak for several minutes. But he took a series of deep breaths – she could see the questions swimming in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to make Zuko mad at you," he finally said.

Katara smiled and put her arm around his little shoulders. "I know that, Tenzin. Don't worry about it."

"I hate it when you fight," the boy admitted.

"I don't like it either," Katara sighed. "We don't mean to upset you, you know."

"When is Ursa coming back home?" he asked.

Katara smiled a little. "I don't know, baby. Whenever she gets a break from her training with Uncle, I guess."

"I miss her," he sighed.

Katara smiled a little bit more. "I'm sure she misses you too."

Tenzin paused, and began to fidget with three little marbles that he often kept in his pocket, to keep his hands busy. He started to absent-mindedly spin them in a little circle of air between his fingers. Katara still found herself amazed at the things he could do at such a young age. She had only been able to move small drops of water at his age.

"Why isn't Zuko my daddy?" he asked quietly, sounding as if he was a little ashamed to ask such a question.

Katara was stunned, and found herself lost for an answer.

"That's… I mean… I don't know," she stuttered helplessly. "That's just the way it turned out."

"We've always lived here with Zuko, like he _is _my daddy," Tenzin went on, twirling the marbles a bit faster. "But you aren't married. And I never called him daddy. Why do we live with Zuko and Ursa, instead of my real daddy? Why don't I have a real daddy?"

"Well… " She was beginning to feel like curling herself up into a ball and trying to escape from the world again. She always knew this conversation would happen one day – but she was far from prepared.

"That man in the street today," the boy continued. "He's not my real daddy either, even though you said he was. Right?"

"I – " Katara truly felt lost now, her thoughts and words snagging in the brambles of razor-sharp uncertainties. "I was – trying to protect you – "

"Protect me from what?" He finally looked up at her, yearning for the truth.

"People," Katara said. "Bad people, who might want to hurt you or take you away from me."

"But why would they want to do that?" Tenzin asked. "Why did you have to pretend that man was my daddy? And why am I not allowed to play with the air unless I'm here, where no one can see? Is it bad? It doesn't hurt anyone. Why is it so bad if people see?"

"Tenzin…" Katara felt despicable. She'd gone through a similar difficulty as a child, as the last Waterbender left in the South Pole. Her mother had died to protect her from the Fire Nation's raids to wipe out all the Waterbenders. She'd always had to be cautious about Waterbending in view of strangers. Most Benders began training at a very young age, but she hadn't begun until she was fourteen – not until Aang appeared and changed everything. Not being able to Bend, having to hide – it was like always being forced to wear a mask, and not knowing why.

"Momma," Tenzin sighed, looking away from her again with an air almost of disappointment. Was he disappointed in her? In her failure to answer his questions? "Did you know who that man was?" he asked finally.

Katara hesitated. "No," she said in complete honesty. "I have no idea."

"But you chased him. And you called him 'Aang,'" Tenzin stated flatly. "You thought he was Avatar Aang, didn't you?"

Katara was silent, still struggling for words.

"Momma," Tenzin began again, this time taking a deep, solemn breath. This was the question he'd really come to ask, the one the others had all just been leading up to. "Is Avatar Aang – is he my real daddy?"

A weighty silence descended over the two of them, mother and son. Tenzin was looking at her again, expectantly. Almost accusingly, Katara thought – but she knew that was just her own feelings interpreting her son's actions. She'd never expected Tenzin to figure it out on his own like this. But he was very smart, so she wasn't completely surprised. Just sad – sad, because she wished she had told him first, before he had to deduce it on his own.

She took a deep breath also, and gazed intently at the painting on the wall. She couldn't look at him at the moment. She had to tell him the truth. It was time.

"Yes, Tenzin," she said, very quietly. "Avatar Aang is your real daddy."

Tenzin didn't say anything for a long while. Katara watched him intently. He wasn't looking at her anymore, but was staring very hard at the three marbles in his hand. He sat perfectly still, but she thought he didn't seem very surprised.

"That's why I can bend the air," he finally whispered. "Just like he did."

"Yes," she said. "That's why we don't let you bend the air whenever you're outside. Avatar Aang was the last person – besides you – that was able to bend the air. If someone saw you doing it, they would realize that Aang is your dad, and you might be in danger."

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because, even though most people thought of him as a hero, there are some who don't like the Avatar and might do something bad if they knew you're his son," she tried to explain.

"Why – " Tenzin began, then paused, sorting out what exactly he was asking. When he finally decided, he spoke very slowly. "Did he… die?"

Katara closed her eyes and breathed for a few moments. "I don't know."

"What happened to him?"

"He just disappeared. Before you were even born. No one knows what happened to him."

"Do _you _think he died?" Tenzin's blue eyes pierced her heart.

She felt that urge to curl herself into a ball again, but resisted. Another tear rolled down her cheek – it was so hard. "I don't know, Tenzin. I want to think he's still alive, but he's been gone for a long time. I really don't know."

Tenzin had grown very solemn. He looked up at the painting on the wall, searching perhaps for something in Avatar Tenzin's face to show him what his father's face had looked like.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, and he sounded hurt. "You always told me stories about Avatar Aang. Why didn't you just tell me then? Why does Zuko act like my daddy, even though he's not? Why did you lie, Momma?"

Katara felt a crack deepening in her heart, and each of his questions dug deeper into it, widening it until it was surely beyond repair. She despised herself.

"Because," she finally sighed, searching for just the right words. "Because I didn't want you to miss him like I do."

Quiet tears were coming again. She hated them, but she couldn't stop them. It was all too hard to handle without shedding some tears. Tenzin was gazing intently at her, but she couldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, fighting the pain welling in her eyes, failing completely, and hastily wiping away the two tears that rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Tenzin. I shouldn't have lied to you. I'm just still really sad, and I didn't want you to be sad, too."

Tenzin stared at her for a moment, watching her wipe one more tear away. Then quietly he stood and wrapped his arms gently around her neck. She held him close and let him comfort her, as if for a moment the roles of parent and child had suddenly been switched. He patted her shoulders and brushed his fingers soothingly through her hair.

"Don't cry, Momma," he said softly. "I'm not mad. I forgive you. It's going to be okay. You don't have to be sad."

Katara shuddered a little, and smiled brokenly. "I can't help it, baby. I've been sad for a long time."

"Sometimes I've heard you crying at night before," Tenzin said. "Do you think about daddy at night?"

"Always."

"Maybe he'll come back one day," Tenzin said hopefully, patting her shoulders again. "Then you won't be sad anymore."

Katara sniffled and smiled at him, mustering a small laugh. "Maybe," she said.

"Do you think that man we saw in the city today was him?" Tenzin asked.

She gazed at him for several moments, unsure how to answer. She hadn't decided yet for herself what she thought about their strange encounter that day.

"I don't know," she finally sighed. "I thought maybe it was, at the time. But I think I just want to see him so much that I'm imagining things."

Tenzin looked slightly downcast for a moment, and then his eyes sparkled a bit. "Would you feel better if you told me another story about daddy?"

Katara couldn't help but smile, though the ache in her heart was as piercing as ever. "I think it might help a little. Which one do you want to hear?"

"Start at the beginning," Tenzin said decisively, sliding into her lap and situating himself comfortably. "Start at the beginning, and go until you feel better."

"The beginning, huh?" Katara grinned. She felt flushed and nasally and shattered, but she couldn't help teasing him – it lightened the burden of the moment. "The _very _beginning? Okay, well, I don't know if I can remember, but … Once upon a time, I was just a tiny little squirt living in my mom's belly. It was really, really, really dark. Then, one magical day – "

"No!" Tenzin cried, laughing and lightly smacking her in the face. "That's too far back! You know what I mean. Start at the part where you first met daddy."

Katara snickered. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say. You're the boss… Well, it all began early in the winter time. I was fourteen, and your Uncle Sokka was fifteen. We were living at the South Pole, and your Grandpa Hakoda was off fighting in a war. And one day, me and Sokka took out our boat and went fishing, but Sokka accidentally crashed and got us stuck out in the ice."

Tenzin gasped. "Oh, no!"

"I know. I was pretty angry, so I started yelling at him. I wasn't a very good Waterbender yet, but when I started yelling I accidentally cracked open a big block of ice floating near us. It made a huge wave, and almost knocked me and Uncle Sokka right into the icy water."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, it got really quiet for a second, and then something strange started to happen. We saw a weird light coming from underneath the water, getting brighter and brighter. Something really huge was coming up to the surface, and we were scared because we didn't know what it was. Finally, it burst out of the water with a huge splash – _whulsh!_"

"What was it?"

"It was an enormous iceberg, as big as a mansion, and round like a ball. It didn't look like the other icebergs floating around – there was something different about it. So I got up and looked closer, and deep inside, I could see two shapes stuck in the middle. One looked like a huge creature with a big flat tail and six legs."

"Appa!" Tenzin cried, bursting with anticipation.

"And the other looked like a boy, with glowing eyes."

"And a glowing arrow on his head?"

"Exactly. He was sitting inside the ice, with his hands together, like this." She sat up very straight and put her fists together, elbows straight out. "I saw him open his eyes, and realized he was alive. So I grabbed Uncle Sokka's axe and started to chop at the iceberg. I swung and swung at the ice, and finally a big blast of air exploded out of it. And the iceberg split right open, and a bright white light shone out of the top, straight into the sky."

"Whoa!"

"It was so bright that for a few minutes, me and Sokka couldn't see a thing. When we were finally able to look again, we saw the boy slowly climbing out of the ice. He stood still, and then his eyes and his arrows stopped glowing, and he started to faint. I ran quickly to catch him as he fell, afraid that maybe he was dead. But he wasn't – he was alive, and in a minute he woke up. And he just looked up at me, just for a second. Then, very quietly, he whispered, _I… have… to ask you something… Please, come closer…_"

"What did he say?"

"You'll never guess."

"What?"

"He said…" She paused solemnly, for dramatic effect. "He said… _Will you go penguin sledding with me_?"

"What?" Tenzin burst into laughter. "What's penguin sledding?"

"What's penguin sledding!" Katara exclaimed. "Well, it's this thing we used to do in the South Pole, where we'd catch a penguin and ride on its back. It was tons of fun. One day, when we go back to visit the South Pole again, you and me will go penguin sledding."

"Neat!" Tenzin grinned. "So, _did _you go penguin sledding with him?"

Katara laughed, and let out a deep sigh. "Yes, Tenzin. Yes, I did."


	12. The Call

_And still going... Told you it was really long. I honestly didn't expect it to get so complicated when I first started writing it, haha. Anyhoo..._

_DISCLAIMER: Only one of the characters in this chapter belongs to me. The rest belong to Michael DiMartino and Brian Konietzko. They've made me lose lots of sleep and time because of their awesome show, but unfortunately I don't think I'll ever get revenge on them for that. :D_

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><p><strong>THE CALL<strong>

Zuko needed to stop thinking. If he thought anymore, he was going to lose his mind.

He was sitting in the Firelord's throne room, in his father's old throne. He hadn't lit the wall of flames that customarily stood between the throne and the rest of the chamber. Those flames hadn't been lit since his sister Azula had briefly sat in this seat, rapidly losing her own sanity and banishing people at whim. Zuko had never used the throne during his reign as Firelord, preferring to meet people down on the ground, at their level. The throne, and the wall of flames, separated the ruler from his people – that was how his father and grandfather had run the nation. He had always wanted to show that he was different from his tyrannical predecessors – that he was not separate from his subjects, but was their equal.

Besides, there was something he feared about this throne. It had always been his father's seat; and Azula had gone mad sitting in it. Granted, she probably would have gone mad anyway – nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel it was a bad omen.

But now he was sitting in it, just to see what it felt like. What it must have felt like to be his father, the powerful terror of the world. What it must have felt like to be Azula in those last few days before her defeat and incarceration.

He didn't like it much.

Was Katara really losing her mind now as well? Had her wound been festering for so long that she was finally having hallucinations, seeing Airbenders where there were none, chasing strangers through the streets?

Or had she really seen Aang?

Zuko wasn't sure which explanation he hated more. If Katara really _had _seen Aang – not just a vision of Aang, but the real, physical Avatar himself – then why was Aang wandering the city in disguise, acting mysterious, and running away from Katara and his own son? Where had he been for so long? And if it was so easy for him to simply appear in the street one day, then why had he stayed away for five years? What was he doing? Surely he wouldn't simply be lurking around to spy on them. Surely he would appear again, sometime soon. And then Katara would leave. Zuko clenched his fists with rage at the thought. She would leave, no matter how cruel or selfish Aang had been to hide from them all this time, to leave her to raise Tenzin on her own, never giving them any answer about what had happened to him. None of that mattered to Katara. It was Aang. He could do no wrong in her sight.

But suppose it really _wasn't _Aang? Zuko couldn't bear the thought that Katara would descend into madness, just as his sister had done. Katara would definitely be a much less dangerous madwoman than Azula was. But just watching her fall apart before his eyes was something Zuko knew he couldn't bear. And what would become of Tenzin, then? Would he be left alone, or would Katara merely drag him with her into her own false reality?

Suppose she wasn't losing her mind. Maybe it had been some kind of vision? Aang trying to reach her from beyond the grave?

That thought made Zuko clench his fists with anger as well. If Aang really cared about her so much, then he should know that what Katara really needed was just to be left alone, to be allowed to forget. It wasn't fair that he would keep coming back to haunt her. And anyway – though Zuko would never admit it to himself – he felt a little jealous. Mai had never appeared to _him _randomly; she'd gone to the grave and forgotten about him entirely.

Zuko often wondered when Katara was planning on telling Tenzin the truth about who his father really was. She had always seemed to expect Zuko to play the part of the boy's father, and Zuko had done it without argument. He cared very much for Tenzin. But Katara had also always insisted that Tenzin should know Zuko was _not _his real father. Tenzin had been taught not to call him anything other than simply "Zuko." It had hurt a little, maybe – but what really hurt was knowing that Tenzin would grow up never knowing his real father. Just because Zuko was there doing Aang's job didn't mean that it would be the same for Tenzin. Katara didn't understand. She didn't understand fathers and sons the way Zuko did.

The young Firelord sighed, wishing desperately for something to do. But everything was running smoothly in the Fire Nation – it seemed he'd done his job a little too well. Again, he found himself wishing that his daughter was somewhere around. It seemed like he always got so easily frustrated with her when she _was _around, always wishing to have a little more time to himself. But if she'd been there now, he would have listened to her chatter for hours about anything. He wondered how her training with Uncle was going. Maybe he should send a messenger hawk their way.

Maybe he should go apologize to Katara for shouting at her. At any rate, he probably ought to get out of this accursed chair.

He stood, but suddenly a thunderous noise from somewhere in the palace startled him. It sounded far away, but it definitely didn't sound innocuous. The noise distinctly reminded him of Bending – powerful Bending, though not with Earth or Water. Azula? Had the guards spotted her?

Hastily, Zuko leaped down from the throne and rushed to the chamber door. But before he'd reached it, the door flung open and two guards came in.

"Um – there's an intruder in the palace," the first one stammered, sweating anxiously. "You should stay here, Firelord Zuko."

"Is it Azula?" Zuko demanded. "I'll face her!"

"No, Firelord, it's a – well, I'm pretty sure it's a man," said the other guard. "And he wasn't Firebending."

"Well, I mean, we didn't see any fire," the first one clarified quickly.

Zuko furrowed his brow. "What weapons did he have?"

"We, uh – we didn't see any weapons either," said the first one again, looking abashed.

"Well, then, how did he get in?" Zuko asked sternly, hiding his confusion.

"Didn't really see that either," the guard stuttered awkwardly. "We ran here right away to defend you."

"I can defend myself!" Zuko growled, pushing past them and striding confidently out of the throne room and into the hall. The guards trotted urgently after him.

"Firelord Zuko – " said the second guard.

"No," Zuko said. "I'll face this intruder myself. No one just comes charging into my palace like this, not as long as I'm the Firelord. Go find Katara and Tenzin and make sure that they're somewhere safe. And don't tell Katara what's happening."

"What should we tell her if she asks, Firelord?" the first guard inquired nervously.

Zuko paused. "Tell her – I don't know, think of something! You've both got brains in there somewhere, haven't you? Just don't let her try to come find me."

"Um… how should we… stop her?" the second guard asked, even more nervously.

Zuko growled a little in frustration, and turned on the two of them. "Just do whatever it takes! Take her to her room and keep her there, if you have to. Just don't let her come. I don't want her here if there's any real threat."

The guards bowed. "Yes, Firelord." And they departed to carry out his orders.

Zuko watched them go, then resumed his steady stride. Whoever it was, this intruder was going to regret choosing today to try to break into the palace. Zuko was in no mood for this.

* * *

><p>"What?" Katara shouted furiously, standing and lifting Tenzin into her arms. The guards had found them still telling stories in front of the painting of Avatar Tenzin and Princess Zara. "What do you mean, you're taking us to our rooms? We don't want to go to our rooms! And we don't need anyone to take us there, anyway. What was that noise a few minutes ago? What's going on?"<p>

"N-nothing," said the first guard, stuttering even more in the presence of Katara's wrath than he had in the presence of Zuko. "Nothing's going on. We're merely following Firelord Zuko's orders."

"Zuko wouldn't order that unless there was something wrong," Katara said, narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. "Now, you tell me what's really going on, or I'm going to go find out myself."

"You should do what she says," Tenzin warned them. "She can definitely beat you up."

Katara glared sternly at the two of them. They glanced at each other anxiously.

"I, uh," the first one began, "I'm very sorry, but the Firelord's orders were that we not tell you what's really going on."

"Really?" Katara scowled. Of course, Zuko _would _do that. Sometimes she wished that he didn't know her as well as he did. It must be Azula – Katara couldn't think of any other explanation. She must have been spotted outside the palace, trying to break in. Well, Katara was _not _going to let Zuko try to face her alone. He should know better than that.

"In that case, I'm definitely going to see what's happening," Katara declared.

"Nice going!" the second guard mumbled at the first, hitting him over the back of his helmet.

"No, no! You can't go!" the first one hurriedly said. "Our orders were to keep you away."

"You two stay here and protect Tenzin," she commanded, setting her son on the ground.

"But I wanna go too!" the boy whined.

"No, Tenzin," she said firmly. "It's too dangerous. You have to stay here."

"Please," the second guard tried, "Firelord Zuko said – "

"I don't care," she interrupted him. "I'm going, and you two aren't going to stop me."

She started to march off, but the guards quickly ran after her and took hold of both her arms. She wrenched herself away from them, and started to run, but they hastily tackled her to the ground.

"Hey!" Tenzin screamed.

"Hey!" Katara shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're really sorry," the first one said timidly as he pinned Katara's arms behind her back.

"But the Firelord's other orders were that we do whatever it takes to stop you from going," the second one finished, also very apologetically.

"Let go of me this instant!" she commanded furiously, scanning the room for some water to bend, and struggling to get her hands free.

There was a sudden blast of air from behind them, and the two guards went flying, tumbling head over heels to crash into the wall. Katara quickly sprang to her feet and smiled back at her son, who looked ecstatic.

"Did you see that, Momma?" he cried, jumping up and down. "Did you see what I did?"

"Great job, sweetie!" she grinned. "Now, hurry, there's a big pot of flowers in the other room there. Run and bring it in here for me, okay? Quick!"

Knowing better than to ask questions, Tenzin scurried into the next room over, as the guards struggled to rise to their own feet, rubbing their bruises. They both raised their fists, with very uncomfortable and uncertain expressions on their faces, and ran after Katara again. She evaded them easily, while Tenzin returned to the hall lugging a vase full of vibrant Fire Lilies.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Katara said, dodging the guards again and moving into position. "Now, stand back!"

Tenzin stood back, beaming. He rarely got to see his mother in action.

"Sorry about this, flowers," she muttered quickly. As the guards rushed towards her, she focused all her energy on that vase full of flowers, and Waterbended every single drop of moisture out of the plants and the soil in the pot. The flowers shriveled, sucked completely dry. Before the guards even had a chance to realize what had happened, she stretched that small amount of water out and sent it flying at them. It twirled in the air and snapped like a whip, knocking the first guard's head into that of the second guard. Their helmets knocked loudly together and they both grunted in shock. The next instant, the little stream of water entwined itself around their feet and hardened into ice. They fell to the ground, astonished and bewildered, and saw that all four of their feet were trapped together in a single block of ice.

"That should do it," Katara smirked with satisfaction.

"Wow!" Tenzin cried, jumping in the air once more and twirling on a little air current. "That was amazing, Momma!"

"Thanks, Tenzin," she grinned. "You should see what I can do with a _lot _of water. Now, you stay here, and don't go anywhere alone. You understand me? I'll be back soon. If you disobey me then you're going to get the punishment of a lifetime. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tenzin said docilely.

"And _you _two – " she glanced down at the guards. "Keep an eye on him, please. He'll help you thaw that ice as soon as I'm gone."

And in a moment, she was out of sight, and that was that. The guards watched her go helplessly, then glanced unhappily at each other.

"Do you think Firelord Zuko's going to be mad?" the first guard asked.

"Probably," said the second one, then glanced hopefully over at Tenzin. "Hey, kid! Could you help us out over here?"

Tenzin shifted his eyes between the two of them, mulling it over. The two uncomfortable guards, sprawled awkwardly on the ground, glanced nervously between Tenzin and one another. Tenzin smirked slightly after a moment.

"Nah, I think you guys can get out of that just fine," he grinned deviously. "Just blow on it. It'll melt in a little while."

And with a happy skip, Tenzin hopped right over their heads and vanished down the hallway after his mother.

"Yeah, we're definitely fired," said the first guard.

* * *

><p>Zuko threw open the huge wooden door that led to the front hall. The intruder must have made it through the palace walls some time ago and would be here any minute, once he (or she – for Zuko hadn't ruled out the possibility that it was Azula) made it past the guards. Servants were running for cover in fright, hearing the enormous ruckus of the battle in the courtyard.<p>

"Tell everyone to get to their rooms and stay there until I say," Zuko commanded a fleeing servant girl nearby. She nodded nervously, clearly with no idea what was happening or how severe the danger might be. She rushed off to follow Zuko's orders, just as the great door to the front hall burst open, seemingly from a huge kick.

But the intruder wasn't huge – he was a rather small person, actually. Much shorter than Zuko, and probably than Katara as well. He was wrapped in a brown mantle from head to foot, and brown cloths covered him completely so that only his eyes were visible. Guards were coming close behind him, as well as rushing past Zuko towards him.

Zuko took long, certain strides forward, inhaling deeply.

"How dare you come charging into my palace!" he shouted. "Get out of here! Now!"

With a sharp yell, Zuko steadied himself and kicked, launching an impressive fireball from his foot. It didn't hit the intruder – he hadn't meant it to, yet – but rather exploded over everyone's heads.

"The next one will not miss, I can promise you that!" Zuko warned the stranger fiercely. "Now get out of here!"

The guards were moving in on the intruder, surrounding him on all sides. But the stranger didn't seem at all fazed – in fact, he seemed to hardly react at all. Zuko was puzzled – he carried no swords, no weapons really at all that he could tell. But he saw the stranger crouch low to the ground, beginning a quick spiraling motion.

"Move back!" Zuko ordered the guards, throwing a fiery punch directly at the intruder. But no one had enough time to move, and the fireball never even came close to its target.

Zuko blinked. By the time he'd done it, an enormous whirlwind burst from the stranger, deflecting the fire and throwing all of the guards – and Zuko – backwards, crashing into the walls.

Zuko rose to his feet, groaning.

He hadn't expected that.

But – wait –

What had just happened?

A whirlwind. An Airbender. He was an Airbender.

But, besides Tenzin, the Airbenders were extinct. There was only one other person –

But it couldn't be –

"Aang?" Zuko gasped. No – no! No, it couldn't be!

"Aang?" came another voice, and Zuko felt a surge of frustration. It was Katara's voice.

She had just emerged from one of the side doors into the hall, just in time to witness the huge blast of air that had thrown everyone to the walls. She held a tentacle of water suspended in the air around her, ready to strike, but she'd been frozen. Her eyes were a storm of emotions. Shock, doubt, hope, confusion, longing, fear.

A sudden silence crashed heavily upon them all.

The intruder finally straightened himself and glanced between Katara and Zuko, who could only stare at him in disbelief and wonder. The guards were all rising to their feet, some groaning and wobbling slightly, but attempting to gather themselves to defend their Firelord.

But the stranger held up his hands for a moment, in a gesture of cease-fire. And slowly he reached up, pushing back the hood of his cloak. He began to loosen the strips of brown cloth wrapped around his face.

Katara could feel herself trembling, could feel her breath shuddering and tripping in her throat. A strong part of her screamed, telling her to go to him, to run to him immediately. But another part of her, equally powerful, screamed at her to flee. Screamed that there was not going to be a face underneath that brown cloth.

But she held her ground, forcing herself not to give in to the terror, and kept her water-whip poised for attack.

The brown cloths finally fell loose, and the stranger tucked them down around his neck.

His head was shaven, and an arrow tattoo came up the back of his head, stopping just at the middle of his brow. His eyes were gray.

But it wasn't Aang.

It had been five years since she'd last seen Aang, but Katara would know his face, no matter how long it had been, or how altered he was. And this was not him.

The plummeting disappointment was almost too much to bear – luckily, though, she now had a massive hurricane of shock and bewilderment to distract her from it.

"Who are you?" she demanded fiercely.

"Another Airbender!" Zuko exclaimed, gawking in an uncharacteristically blank, wide-eyed way. "But – that's impossible!"

"Where have you come from?" Katara screamed. All the frustration and rage! She wanted to hurt him simply for not being Aang. "_Who are you_?"

"I came here to speak to Katara of the Water Tribe," the stranger answered her, in a gentle but solemn voice. "That _is _you, isn't it?"

"Who _are _you?" Zuko repeated Katara's fierce question. He felt like he was trapped in some very surreal dream, in which he was face to face with an Aang who was not Aang. This couldn't be happening – it had to be some kind of trick. The guards were all looking to him expectantly, unsure now whether or not this stranger was an enemy.

"I came here to speak to Katara, Master Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of Hakoda and Kya," the strange Airbender said again, casting his stern glance back at Katara and the rippling blade of water she held suspended in the air. "You are she, correct? Or am I mistaken?"

"You're not in any position to be asking questions at the moment," Katara growled fiercely, still burning with the desire to do harm to the stranger for making her think that he was Aang; she was finding it extremely difficult to resist the urge. "Answer us this instant, or you'll dearly regret it, I promise you!"

"Forgive me, good lady," the Airbender said solemnly and politely, bowing very low to the ground. "I must apologize for my entrance. And apologies to you as well, Firelord Zuko. I come on a very urgent errand, you see, and I couldn't wait for an official audience."

"Answer us this instant!" Katara shouted. "Stop wasting time! _Who are you_?"

"Answer the lady's question," Zuko commanded very softly, gazing hard at the stranger. Something about Zuko's hushed order carried even greater threat than Katara's wild shouts, and the Firelord's eyes did not blink, as if he meant to set the intruder on fire with his mind.

The Airbender stood up very straight, and looked at them both gravely.

"I am called Yonten," he finally answered.

"You're an Airbender," Zuko stated, quietly.

"Yes, Firelord Zuko, I am," Yonten nodded.

"Where have you come from?" Katara demanded furiously. Her shoulders were tensed – the slightest move would send the blade of water straight at the stranger's head. "How dare you break into this palace? What do you want with me? And why couldn't you have just spoken to me in the city earlier, instead of running away? You _were _the one we met, weren't you?"

"Forgive me," Yonten said again, bowing to her once more. "I wasn't entirely sure at that moment that you were the person I sought, and I feared speaking to you in public. I did not want it revealed to everyone that I was an Airbender."

"How can you be an Airbender?" Zuko asked softly, unusually blunt with confusion.

"Well… my mother was an Airbender," Yonten replied simply and reasonably - with the slightest bit of dryness. "And so was my father. And so were their parents. And - "

"No – I mean," Zuko shook his head, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples impatiently. "I _mean_, how is that you're an Airbender and _alive_? And not even very old, either – probably younger than I am. How can that be? My great-grandfather wiped out all the Air Nomads over a hundred years ago."

"Apparently not," Yonten said softly, smiling in a very subtle, and not entirely friendly, way.

"But no one has seen any Airbenders since that time," Katara added, beginning to gain more control over her rage now, but far from composed. This was much more than a pebble dropping into her mind; this was a fully-grown mountain.

Yonten glanced back at her. "Not to contradict you, my lady, but isn't your son an Airbender?"

Zuko answered him with a tone of dark caution. "What she meant was that no one has seen any Airbenders except for the last Avatar. Which you, clearly, are not."

"I sort of expected that would be understood." Katara glared at the stranger.

"Well, if the Avatar managed to survive the slaughter of the Air Nomads, then isn't it possible a few others did as well?" Yonten replied.

"But where have you been all this time? Were you _all _frozen in icebergs?" Katara couldn't help but ask sarcastically, grinding her teeth and struggling to keep a muzzle on her fierce emotions. Her fingers twitched to launch that water-whip at him. Oh, she _so_ wanted to.

"It isn't difficult to hide in this world, if you know the right places," Yonten said cryptically. "The small number of Airbenders who managed to escape the massacre chose to cut themselves off permanently from the rest of the world. And who can blame them?"

For a moment he cast a rather icy look at Zuko, as if Sozin's cruelties were somehow passed on genetically to his great-grandson. But quickly, Yonten resumed his reverent position and tone.

"I myself would not have come out of hiding now, except that I have a vital message to deliver to Katara of the Water Tribe. It has taken me long to locate you, my lady. Please, I must speak to you immediately."

"Then speak," Katara ordered coldly.

"Alone," Yonten added.

"No," Katara immediately replied, arching back her water stream.

"Nobody is going to speak with you alone," Zuko agreed, resuming a defensive stance.

"Please," Yonten begged Katara, with genuine urgency. "It's very important, and very private."

"Zuko will hear whatever you have to tell me," Katara insisted.

Zuko nodded at her, then waved to dismiss the guards. Reluctantly, they began to disperse, until the hall was emptied of all life except for Zuko, Katara, and the strange Airbender.

Yonten glanced at Zuko, as if he still was not satisfied, but didn't think he would get a better offer.

"Very well," he sighed, turning to Katara. "I come with news of Avatar Aang."

Katara felt the world shake. She'd hoped – she'd almost expected it – but she couldn't believe it. News? Real news? Had he been found? Was he alive? Was he dead? Where had he been? Why had he disappeared? Where was he now? –

But quickly she composed herself. _Be rational_, she thought firmly. _Don't be too hasty_.

"Many people have come with news of the Avatar," she finally said, softly, arranging her sentences strategically. She hoped Zuko wouldn't interrupt. "But they were all liars, just after a reward. You had a very impressive, and stupid, entrance, barging in here like you did. Doesn't exactly persuade me to trust you… It's definitely – shocking – to meet another Airbender. But I don't see why I should believe anything you say."

"I know nothing about any reward," Yonten said, also very slowly, also judiciously choosing only the best and safest words in his collection. "And even if I had known, I would never have risked so much to come here just for that. We Air Nomads are apart from the world and its troubles; we have no need for money. But you were, ahem, _well _acquainted with the Avatar, so I'm sure you already knew that."

Katara didn't reply, only kept staring stonily at him.

"And," he went on, "considering that no Airbender survivor, save the Avatar, has shown his face in a hundred years, do you really think I would have broken that tradition, at the risk of my own life, for something as meaningless and useless as a small fortune?"

Katara scrutinized him carefully. She could sense that Zuko wanted to speak, but was holding back. She was grateful – this was her conversation. He was merely there for protection.

"Suppose I believe you," Katara spoke again finally, purposefully utilizing her tone to imply that she was not inclined to believe him, "that you don't care about the reward, and you've come here because you actually think you know something about Aang – "

"I don't just _think_ – "

"If you and the rest of the Air Nomads have been 'separated' from the world, like you said, then where is your information coming from?"

Yonten looked very solemn for a moment – that is, more solemn than usual, for he seemed to be a naturally grave and formal person.

"I have received a message from the spirit world," he replied. "Someone I cared for very much – my Aunt Sen – was suffering a terrible illness, and her mind became lost. I was meditating, hoping to find healing for her in the spirit world, when I received a message from a female spirit with a red blindfold. She told me to seek you out and bring you information about the Avatar."

Katara's heart stopped beating for a moment. A red blindfold? No – it wasn't possible!

"She told me," Yonten went on, "that if you would not listen to me, then I must bring you this message to convince you: _Love is brightest in the dark_."

Katara was tumbling.

Zuko glanced at her, and finally spoke up when he saw that she was drowning in her own thoughts.

"Does that mean something to you, Katara?" he asked.

She hesitated, now more frightened than anything else. Frightened of the stranger: not because he was frightening, but because she feared what he might say next, feared to trust him. Her hopes were rising with every word he said – _Aang isn't dead_, she thought, smothering a wild, rearing rush of exhilaration. _He's not dead. He can't be. This Airbender wouldn't have come all the way here just to tell me that_. Yet, wilder and fiercer than her excitement, there was something horribly foreboding about every one of Yonten's words. A familiar nervous nausea was churning in her stomach. She wanted to believe – she wanted to hear what he had to say – she needed to be sure this was real –

"That's, uh – that's the inscription on the tomb of Oma and Shu," she finally spoke, her voice cracking slightly. "In the Cave of Two Lovers, in the Earth Kingdom. Anyone who knows the mythology of the Earth Kingdom at all might know that inscription."

"But isn't it also," Yonten added, very softly, seeming to doubt himself slightly for a moment, "the inscription on the back of your necklace, the one that Avatar Aang made you himself?"

"There you're wrong," Zuko announced with undisguised triumph in his voice. "Katara's necklace belonged to her mother, and it was made for her grandmother before that. Trust me, I know."

"The lady still hasn't answered," Yonten pointed out, glancing at Zuko for a moment.

Both of them looked intently at Katara. Everything hinged on her response.

Katara thought she was being ripped apart from the inside out.

It wasn't possible – no one could have known – no one knew about that inscription – no one except Appa had been there with Aang and herself in the Lovers' Tomb all those years ago – no one even knew about the necklace, or the marriage proposal she'd rejected. Not Sokka, not Zuko, not Tenzin. Not even Gran Gran. No one knew – except Aang.

Wonder and sorrow were battling within her. The Airbender must truly have received information about Aang straight from Aang himself. But – but – it couldn't be! It was too good – or maybe just too impossible – to be true.

But now, Zuko would know. Katara hadn't ever worn Aang's necklace in plain sight around him. She'd kept it close always, of course; sometimes she wore it, if she could hide it in her shirt. Other times she kept it in her pocket, or in a pouch, or tied around her wrist. She'd never told him about it. She hadn't wanted to hurt him; but she wouldn't give it up, either.

She looked at Zuko, then at Yonten.

"That's not the necklace he's talking about, Zuko," she said, _very _quietly.

Zuko stared at her, as if she'd slapped him in the face and he couldn't understand why.

"What?" he asked, also very quietly.

Ashamed, she pulled Aang's necklace out of her pocket and held it up. It twirled and shimmered slightly from the sunlight shining into the hall. The inscription on the back, that she'd nearly worn away from rubbing her fingers over it constantly for the past five years, was the same as the inscription on the tomb of Oma and Shu – as, of course, she could have told someone in her sleep.

"He's telling the truth," she said.

Yonten looked relieved, and his face cracked into a small smile of satisfaction. Zuko's face, however, was frozen – completely unreadable. She knew she'd hurt him by admitting so suddenly that she'd been carrying Aang's necklace around with her secretly for five years – she wasn't going to dare admit that Aang had given her the necklace to be a symbol of their engagement. Who knew what Zuko would do? He'd be furious. He was probably already furious – but she couldn't do anything for him at the moment. There were other matters to deal with.

She turned to Yonten.

"_Where is Aang_?" she demanded, with grave urgency.

Yonten sighed, glad that his message could be heard. But the next instant, his relief was scratched away by traces of deep sorrow; his expression quickly resumed its seriousness, and he bowed to her again.

Nausea, dread, rising up again. This wasn't going to be good news, was it?

"Avatar Aang," the Airbender began somberly, "is not dead, but not alive, either. He is trapped in the spirit world. Five years ago, he was apparently abducted by an evil spirit, who broke into the physical realm and attacked him. I – I'm not sure why this spirit chose to take him, or how exactly it happened. But I _was _told that the spirit that stole him is a very ancient and powerful one, remorseless and apathetic. It is called…"

He paused. It wasn't to create any kind of dramatic tension – though it did, unintentionally – but more because he seemed afraid of the next words he had to say.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "The female spirit I spoke to, with the blindfold – she said it was called – that is, she called it the – the 'Face-Stealer.'"

For several minutes, the world went black.

Katara saw a thousand visions in a single instant – a thousand times that she'd uncovered Aang's face in her dreams, only to find it gone. A thousand times she'd awoken at night, screaming in horror and despair. That dark, hungry, slithering shape. The laughing white theater mask with the painted lips and eyebrows. That deep, heartless, multi-faceted chuckle. Aang's voice: _Don't cry, Katara_. And then – and then his face – gone. Always gone. It was too horrible to be true.

The next thing Katara was conscious of was the fact that she was somehow on the ground. Something inside her had given way, some internal support. Zuko and Yonten were leaning over her, calling her name. Zuko was holding her, touching her face.

"Katara?" he cried. "Katara, wake up!"

She woke up.

"Sorry," she murmured, embarrassed. Then she rolled over and vomited, the anxious nausea at last overflowing after that sudden assault. Her entire body shuddered for a moment. She felt dizzy. With shame, she saw that she'd accidentally gotten some on Zuko's shoes.

"I'm – I am _very _sorry," Yonten apologized gravely, bowing his head with heavy grief. "I wish I might have brought you better news. I didn't mean to cause you so much pain."

Zuko couldn't take anymore of this. Roaring with fury, he turned and swung an arch of flames into the air, forcing Yonten to glide quickly back several paces.

"Get away from us!" he bellowed in rage, rising to his feet with savage conviction. "Why did you come here, Airbender? You say you didn't mean to cause her pain – well, what did you expect to cause her? Why did you have to bother us with this? Don't you get it – don't you know who the Avatar _was_ to her? She loved him! She _loved _him, understand? Even after five years, she still does. More than she loves anyone else. Even me." Something in Zuko's voice shattered near the end of his angry speech, and he choked slightly on his words, burning with more rage and grief than he could handle. He clenched his fists, and two dangerous yellow fire-daggers burst from his hands.

"Leave here! _Now_!" Zuko shouted.

Yonten glanced at Zuko's face with deep regret for a moment, then at the fire-daggers with some fascination (definitely not as much fear as Zuko had wished to inspire). He bowed humbly, and opened his mouth to say something, but when he lifted his head again, he paused. His eyes locked onto something behind Zuko, behind Katara, in the farthest back corner of the room.

Zuko turned slightly, keeping his fire-daggers pointed at Yonten, to see what had caught the Airbender's eye.

It was Tenzin. He was standing in the shadows, staring with wide eyes, watching the scene unfold. No one had noticed him come in, so it was impossible to know how much he'd just seen and heard. His big blue eyes were frozen on the sight of Yonten – especially on his bald head and arrow tattoos.

Katara rose shakily to her feet. "Tenzin – " she began.

Tenzin glanced at her for a moment, wide-eyed, breathing very hard. He seemed unable to speak.

Zuko and Katara, too, stared helplessly at the boy, unsure what to do. They hadn't expected him to suddenly interrupt the scene like this. But Yonten smiled serenely at the small Airbender, bowing all the way to the ground.

"Young Tenzin," he said. "It is a great honor to meet the Avatar's son. Though we _have _already met, unofficially."

"You're not him," Tenzin finally spoke, his voice shaking. "You have arrows like Avatar Aang, but you're not him. You're the man we saw in the street earlier."

"Yes," Yonten nodded. "My name is Yonten. I am an Airbender, just like you are, and just like your father Aang was. The arrows are the mark of the Airbenders."

"But my daddy was the last one, besides me," Tenzin stammered, flushing with a surge of uncertain and indefinable feelings. "Who are you? Where is my daddy?"

Katara came to Tenzin, to hold him protectively in her arms, but he wrenched away from her with a confused and angry burst of air.

Zuko studied the two of them for a moment, surprised that Tenzin already knew his father's identity. But he didn't have enough time or strength to really linger in that new revelation. The Firelord glared back at Yonten.

"Leave this place," he commanded darkly. "Just leave us alone."

Zuko extinguished his fire-daggers and turned his back on the Airbender, taking a few steps toward Katara and Tenzin. Her eyes were fixed on her son, and Tenzin was still staring hard at Yonten. Zuko longed to join them, but something told him that he couldn't. He was on the outside, stuck in the interim. He was not a part of them – not the way Aang was. A kind of chasm was cracking open inside him, and it hurt, but he'd handle it. He'd dealt with pain before.

"Please," Yonten spoke up desperately, unwilling to leave just yet. "I didn't come here just to bring a message of grief to you all. I was sent here for a purpose. I believe that the Avatar can be saved!"

Zuko had already taken much more than he could bear.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" he snarled, whirling on the Airbender, small flares bursting threateningly from his nostrils. "I told you to leave us alone! Can't you see how much damage you've done to them already? Look at them! They don't need to get their hopes up for nothing!"

But Katara and Tenzin were now both staring hard at Yonten.

"Zuko," Katara said softly, standing straight and tall once more. "I want to hear what he has to say."

Zuko glared fiercely at her. "No, Katara! This has gone far enough! Listen to me – Aang's _gone_. That's it. Now you finally know what happened to him, so you can move on. But if you keep listening to _him_, you're never going to be able to let him go. You're always going to be feeling like this. And Tenzin will always feel like part of him is missing. _I _know. I know what it's like!"

"So do _I_, Zuko," Katara said sternly. "Did you forget about my mother?"

"No. No, I didn't forget," Zuko growled. "But you're not listening, Katara. If you let this Airbender keep talking to you and giving you false hope, you're just going to end up chasing a useless obsession all over the world. Always chasing but never finding. Going crazy by thinking of how things will be different and better once you finally get what you want. And in the process, you're going to lose everything you care about – everything you have _now_."

"No, Zuko," Katara shook her head. "That's what almost happened to you. But this isn't the same thing, and I'm not _you_. As long as there's hope that Aang's alive, and a chance that I can bring him back home, I have to try."

Tenzin had been silent this entire time, glancing between Zuko and Katara as they spoke of things he barely understood. He was too young to know their history, all the nuances of their stories, and too young to understand the complexities of their feelings at the moment. All he knew was that Avatar Aang – his father, whom he'd always known but had never met – was alive somewhere. And this strange person, who was like his father but wasn't him, somehow knew something about how to save him.

"Tell us," Tenzin commanded the stranger, stepping forward past Zuko and Katara. Katara put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell us how to save him."

Yonten looked respectfully at the small boy, then glanced up to his mother. Katara stepped forward with her son, putting her other hand on his other shoulder, leaving Zuko behind.

"Tell us," she repeated.

Zuko was silent. It was no use. He turned away in frustration and anguish, clenching his teeth, wishing that he could run away – he could hardly bear to watch this scene play out. But he wouldn't leave them alone in the stranger's presence, so he stayed.

Yonten closed his eyes for a moment. "The spirit that spoke to me told me that the Avatar must be brought back into the physical world once more, but she, uh – didn't give me really any details about how it would be done. All she told me is that I must find _you_, Katara. You are the one that can save the Avatar. I believe you yourself must somehow journey into the spirit world to recover him; and quickly, for if the Avatar is not recovered by the Winter Solstice this year, he will likely be beyond our reach forever."

Katara fell into silence, breathing slowly.

"You don't have to go, Katara," Zuko said desperately.

"But – but I do," she disagreed solemnly. "I'm the only one who can."

She glanced behind her at Zuko; he was turned fiercely away from her. Walking to him, she put a hand on his shoulder and turned him so that she could look into his eyes.

"Zuko," she said softly. "Wouldn't _you_ do it, for your mother?"

Zuko didn't reply, only wrenched away from her again. But she knew. Zuko would stop at nothing to bring his mother back, if he had the chance, if he found out suddenly where she'd been all those years.

This was Katara's chance – the chance to have Aang with her again, to finally tell him everything she'd held back from him before, to finally take back the things she never meant to say, to finally give Tenzin his real father back, to finally be healed and whole again. Aang had once saved the entire world; now he needed to be saved. She couldn't abandon him; she couldn't let him go. He wouldn't have let her go, even if it took him a hundred years to find her. She had to save him.

Katara gave up on Zuko, leaving him to brood to himself, and returned to Tenzin's side, gazing solemnly at Yonten. "I'll do it," she announced. "Whatever it takes. I _will_ save Aang."

Tenzin looked up at his mother with admiration. Yonten bowed to them yet again, smiling quietly.

"I believe that Destiny sometimes calls all of us to do things we never thought we'd have to do. And only when we accept the call do we find that we are more than we thought. I believe that Destiny sent me to you, and it will be on your side in whatever lies ahead, my lady. If you'd like, I'll help you however I can."

"Thank you," Katara said, returned his respectful bow. "I'd like that, Yonten."


	13. Don't Turn Around

_This was another of my favorite chapters to write. :) Probably because Uncle is just so fantastic, and because it's kinda different from the rest of the story so far._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Uncle Iroh or anyone else from "Avatar the Last Airbender." Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>DON'T TURN AROUND<strong>

"Use your breath, Princess Ursa," Uncle Iroh commanded, sipping serenely on a little cup of tea – jasmine tea, naturally. "Remember, fire comes from the breath. Concentrate."

"I _am _concentrating!" the little girl scowled, swatting away beads of sweat that were forming on her brow.

"If you were really concentrating, you would be too concentrated to tell me that you're concentrating," Uncle chuckled. "I think we'll try something different for now."

"No, Uncle!" the black-haired girl protested. "I can do this! Here, let me start again – "

She took a breath, and began to quickly go through the motions of the routine. She had only learned it yesterday, but she had always been a quick learner, and she wanted to make her Uncle see that. Uncle seemed to be the only person in the entire world who didn't constantly praise her Firebending skills, call her a prodigy, and gawk in amazement when she performed. It was _really _annoying.

She moved through the kicks, turns, punches and shouts of this set as hastily as she could, eager to show him that she could do it fast. Fast, even faster – because she knew it so well. Then he'd see.

"Princess Ursa," Uncle said softly, rising to his feet.

She gave a fierce kick and a violent shout, shooting off a wild stream of fire from her foot – but it was a bit more than she could handle. Some of the fire turned on her, blowing backwards in the wind. The force of the kick caused her to lose her balance, and she fell to the ground, screaming as she saw the fire curling back toward her.

Then Uncle was there – standing over her. He waved his arms and gathered all the stray fire to himself, absorbing it and extinguishing it in the palms of his hands. He chuckled again and shook his head at Ursa, who looked to the ground rather ashamedly.

"This is why I am the teacher and you are the pupil," he said. "Now, are you ready to listen to me, Ursa?"

"Yes, Uncle," she sighed in humiliation.

"Come, stand up." He held one of his aging hands, scarred and worn from years of Firebending, out to the seven year-old princess. She took it, and he lifted her easily off the ground, as if she weighed no more than a feather.

"What do we do when we fall down?" he asked her.

"We stand up again," she replied.

"That's right," he nodded. "Just like the phoenix, the sun-bird, who rises up born anew from its own ashes."

"Uh-huh," she mumbled impatiently. His proverbs did get tiresome so quickly. "So, what are we gonna do now, Uncle? Are you gonna teach me a new set?"

"When you haven't even mastered this one yet?" he cried. "I don't think so! Have patience, little one. That's what we are going to work on today: patience, discipline, control and breath."

"That doesn't sound very fun," she grumbled.

"Fun has nothing to do with it," he laughed, picking up a fallen leaf from the stony ground of the courtyard. "Assume your stance, please, Princess Ursa."

She squatted, clenching her fists in front of her.

"Wider," he commanded.

"I _am_ wider," she argued.

"Ursa," he growled sternly.

She spread her feet wider.

"Good." He took the leaf between his fingers, igniting a small flame directly in the center of it. A black and orange circle of heat began to spread, slowly, slowly, toward the edges of the leaf, burning it away from the center out. He handed it to her.

"Hold this leaf between your fingers, like so," he ordered, situating her to his liking. "Now, your task is to keep that fire from reaching the edges of this leaf. Breathe, Princess Ursa. Concentrate only on the leaf. I will be back to check on you in a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours!" she cried in protest, nearly burning away the leaf then and there. But she carefully returned her attention to it, focusing unhappily on stopping the stupid fire.

"Yes, a couple of hours," Uncle laughed. "And if I come back and find that you've allowed the leaf to burn up, you will have to start over again with a new leaf, for another couple of hours."

"This stinks!" she whined.

Uncle gathered his tray of empty teacups and his teapot, making his way into the building.

"Be happy you have _me _for your teacher, and not my friend Jeong-Jeong," he chuckled. "He would make you hold that leaf for two days straight."

Uncle made his way into the house, the small but comfortable apartment he had owned here in Ba Sing Se for the past eight years, since he had helped reclaim the city from the Fire Nation's troops and had opened up his tea shop. The tea shop – called the Jasmine Dragon – was just below the apartment on the street level, and was the finest tea shop in the entire city, thanks to his endless passion for perfection in his teas. The 'arena' he used for his grand-niece's training was really just the rooftop terrace that opened out from his top-floor apartment, overlooking the bustling city below. It was out of the way of anything, and anyone, that might get burned by Ursa's impetuous nature.

Uncle chuckled again to himself, glancing at the small girl through the window: she looked thoroughly irritated. Zuko had always been convinced that Ursa bore no resemblance to him at all, but Uncle remembered well what it had been like to train Zuko. She was exactly like her father, down to the smallest impatient scowl.

Whistling a favorite Earth Kingdom love ballad to himself, Iroh wandered through the apartment, cleaning up here and there – mostly dishes and clothes and toys that Ursa had left lying around. He descended the stairs that led down into the teashop, making sure everything was still running smoothly. He'd hired only the best workers he could find; none but the best would do to handle his teas and his customers. Usually the teashop could run perfectly without any intervention from him at all.

Greeting some of his customers and thanking them warmly for their compliments, Uncle meandered toward the front door. Just outside the door, the mail slot sat, stuffed to the brim. Gathering up the mail, he patiently walked back through the teashop and up the stairs.

Most of it was just teashop business – letters of praise and thank you, requests to serve tea at various important homes and social events, requests for his recipes (which he _never _gave out) – the usual. He set those aside for the moment to peruse the more interesting items in the mail pile.

The first that caught his eye was a letter, all the way from Kyoshi Island. The bubbly, flourishy handwriting told him immediately that it had been written by Ty Lee. He opened it.

_Dear Uncle, –_

Uncle grinned to himself – it amused him that everyone called him 'Uncle,' no matter if they were related or not.

– _Hello! I hope everything's going well with the tea shop! You know I just LOVE your tea! I've been meaning to stop by Ba Sing Se one of these days, but just haven't had any time at all! Maybe soon I'll get a break. I've definitely been needing a vacation recently!_

_Anyway, the real reason I'm writing this letter is because we've had some pretty weird things happen around here lately… Actually, nothing's been happening at all. Which is weird! You remember that Azula has been sneaking around here for the past few years? We've almost caught her a few times. Sokka and Suki actually had her captive in their house one night not too long ago, but of course she got away. AGAIN. She's been after us three especially (Sokka, Suki and me), but she's caused lots of trouble for everyone on the island, not just us. It's a constant job for us Kyoshi Warriors to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone (or worse!). She burned down some houses and did hurt and kill some people, but mostly we were able to keep one step ahead of her. She's so stubborn, though! She always kept coming back!_

_Well, the weird thing is that nothing's been happening at all for almost a month now. She's gone a long time without showing up before, but after she escaped last time, we're all worried that maybe she's finally just given up on Kyoshi Island. I know, that's a good thing for us, but that means she'll be going somewhere else. Sokka's decided to take Appa (you know, the big furry flying bison with the arrow!) and go check on things in the South Pole, and then stop by the Fire Nation to make sure she hasn't shown up to come after Zuko and Katara. I think Suki's going with him. I thought I could go to the Earth Kingdom and make sure you and Ursa and Toph are all doing fine, but I have to stay here and be in charge of Kyoshi Island while they're gone. We all know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, of course. But we did think we should let you know. Which is why I'm writing this letter!_

_Well, hopefully nothing will happen. Personally, even though I didn't like always having to watch out for Azula, I would feel a lot better if she was still here, because at least then we would know where she is. So, be safe, and keep an eye out! Let us know if anything happens. You know the Kyoshi Warrios are always prepared to help out, if you need us for anything._

_Sokka and Suki say hello. And so do Appa and Momo! (At least, I think they do). Hope to hear from you soon!_

_~ Ty Lee!_

Uncle frowned. Something told him that, despite Ty Lee's inexhaustible cheerfulness, she was deeply concerned. They all were, and with good reason. This news did not bode well.

Perhaps he ought to close up the tea shop a little early tonight, just to be safe. The letter had been written about a week and a half ago, but Azula hadn't been seen in a month. Who knew where she might be? If she was still on her demented quest for revenge – which of course she would be – then he, her 'traitor Uncle,' would most definitely be on her list of targets. And so would little Ursa. Iroh was more concerned for Ursa's safety. _He _could take out Azula, if it came to it. But Ursa was still so small, and still had so much to learn. She wouldn't have a chance.

He also worried for little Tenzin, in the Fire Nation. Would Azula know who he was? In the absence of Aang, would she settle for taking her revenge out on Aang's son instead? Katara must be nearly as hated in her mind as Zuko, if not more so – after all, it was Katara who had finally succeeded in putting Azula in chains. Would Azula use Tenzin as a way to hurt Katara, as well as satisfy her need for revenge on the Avatar? Uncle knew Azula would feel no remorse at all about killing an innocent little boy, especially in her current mental state.

He grunted to himself, setting aside these concerns momentarily to finish scanning the mail. The next interesting letter was, coincidentally, from Zuko. It was much shorter – and not at all bubbly or flourishy.

_Dear Uncle,_

_Big trouble. News about Aang – someone came here saying he'd got a message from the spirit world about Aang and some evil spirit. Katara's convinced. She's going to leave. Don't know what to do. I __really__ need to talk to you. Think you and Ursa could take a break and come for a while? Maybe you can talk some sense into her, since I can't. Tenzin misses Ursa, anyway._

_Let me know if you can't come. If you can, then just come, don't bother sending another letter. Just come as fast as you can._

_Zuko_

Despite the short, choppy, straightforward sentences, Iroh could sense the panic and desperation in his nephew's words.

This was an enormous shock! News about the missing Avatar? After five years, there was a chance that someone actually knew what had become of the boy? And someone who had apparently received a message from the spirit world, no less! What a strange turn of events!

Yet Zuko wrote about the matter like it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to be taken care of. _Big trouble. News about Aang._ So short, almost indifferent.

But Uncle knew he was not at all indifferent. Zuko simply didn't know how else to handle it.

And how oddly fortuitous that these two letters, mailed nearly a week apart, had happened to come to him on precisely the same day. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps it was time for a small vacation.

The last item of interest in the mail pile was not a letter, but a small green package. There was no return address, no sign of who might have sent it. Iroh studied it for a few moments, pondering.

There was something he very much didn't like about this package. He couldn't have said what it was exactly, but it was there, undeniable. Like an indefinite, unpleasant odor.

He left it on the table, unopened.

"Ursa," he called through the sliding door.

"What?" she answered in a bored tone, not looking up from her leaf.

"Your lesson is over for today," he said. "Come inside and pack your things. We're going to take a little trip."

She dropped the leaf excitedly, and it instantly dissolved into cinders on the ground.

"Hurray!" she shouted, scurrying eagerly past Uncle into the apartment. "Where are we going? Are we going to Kyoshi Island, or Omashu, or the Great Divide?"

"No," Uncle replied, with a very serious tone. "We are going back home, to see your father."

Ursa looked at him curiously, noticing the concern in his voice. "What's going on, Uncle?"

"I'll explain on the way," he said. "For now, hurry and pack your things. We're going to leave as soon as we can."

So she fluttered off, as swift as a wild brushfire, to gather up everything in her bedroom.

Uncle glanced at that green package again, frowning. He didn't feel he should just leave it there, unopened. Suppose someone else found it and opened it while he was gone? Suppose it was some disastrous surprise from Azula?

But to get rid of it? He certainly didn't want to take it with them anywhere. He certainly couldn't just dump it in the garbage. And there was no telling what catastrophe could happen if he threw it in the fire.

Sauntering over to the table, he laid one of his wrinkled hands on the package and carefully turned it over once more, as if perhaps this time he might find a clue as to who had sent it or what it was. Of course, it was just as blank and puzzling as before. Green paper, though? Where might green packing paper come from? He sighed – it could be from anywhere in the Earth Kingdom, and that hardly narrowed down the possibilities.

If it was innocuous, then why was there no label? Surely an innocent package from a friend would be labeled. What reason could there be for someone to leave the label off?

Of course, the only reason could be that the sender did not wish him to know his (or _her_) identity. There was no other answer that Iroh could imagine.

Azula would be sneakier than that, though. She would put a false label on it, so that he would open it without even thinking.

Slightly reassured, Uncle began carefully to tear into the corner of the package. Then, he stopped.

Suppose that was just what she would _expect _him to think?

He set the package down again, grunting in frustration.

The corner flapped open slightly, giving him just a small glimpse of the object inside. It was white – white and green porcelain. It looked… it looked like one of the teacups from his shop.

Nothing had happened when he tore open the corner. It was probably safe enough to finish the job.

In a few moments, he had torn the green package apart and laid its contents on the table. He had not been mistaken: there were two teacups, exactly like the kind used in the Jasmine Dragon. But they were both broken deliberately, split directly down the middle. And there was a napkin from his teashop in there as well, with a single message scrawled violently on the back:

_Don't turn around._

Of course, his first instinct was to turn around.

There was nothing there. But it didn't matter. There was no doubt in his mind now who had sent this green package, and what it meant. Uncle's old heart was racing, and he ran to the bedroom.

"Ursa, forget your things! We're leaving right _now_!" he commanded fiercely.

"What?" she cried, bewildered. But he didn't reply.

His eyes darted rapidly to something outside of her window, just behind her.

Before she had a second to turn around and look at what it was, he gave a ferocious roar and shot of bolt of lightning from his fingertips straight at the window.

Ursa fell to the ground in fright. The glass shattered.

"What's going on?" she screamed.

He silently scooped the little princess off the ground and tucked her under his strong arm as if she were nothing but a parcel of groceries.

Out the bedroom door, through the apartment, down the stairs –

He moved so quickly that Ursa barely had a chance to take anything in. She'd never imagined her old Uncle was so agile!

"Everyone, out!" he shouted urgently before they had even reached the teashop at the bottom of the stairs. "Leave your tea and get out of the shop, _now_!"

The tone of his voice was enough to frighten a platypus-bear. Confusion and panic ensued in the teashop, and the workers and customers all gawked at him, stupefied. The smart ones did as he said and immediately stood up, leaving their tea unfinished and unpaid for on the tables.

Uncle set Ursa on the ground again – she fell instantly onto her bottom, disoriented from being carried so suddenly and so quickly – and he shot a fireball into the air above everyone's heads. It wasn't large enough or wild enough to burn anything (or anyone), and he pulled it quickly back into himself. But it was enough to make the teashop's remaining occupants scream in alarm.

"_Out, now_!" he bellowed. This time, the response was more what he'd been going for. Tables and chairs were overturned as everyone rushed to get out. Within seconds, the busy Jasmine Dragon was almost completely deserted.

"Uncle!" Ursa screamed, her heart beating wildly in fright. "What's – ?"

But she never had a chance to finish her question. A cruel hand, with strong, slender fingers, snatched a handful of her hair and dragged her backwards, up the stairs. She screamed wildly, her little heart frantically bouncing every which way inside her chest. She couldn't turn her head to see who it was that had a hold of her – but a thousand frightening stories and warnings that had been repeated to her over the years by her father and Uncle and Aunt Tara, came suddenly vividly to life in her mind. It was the monster of her nightmares.

"Zuzu's little girl, are you?" a woman's cold voice sneered behind her. "You're a pretty little one. You look just like Mai. I'm sure Zuzu's going to miss you very much."

"Azula!" Uncle Iroh thundered. "Let her go!" He hadn't lost a moment in retrieving his panicked niece.

A lightning bolt launched from his fingers, up the stairs. Ursa shrieked, seeing the lightning coming straight at her. But Uncle was far too skilled and precise for that. The lightning only raised the hair on the little girl's arms and knocked out her hearing for a moment. It struck the steps just behind her. The hand that tore at her hair released its grip.

Ursa turned quickly to look in horror, thinking that surely the lightning must have hit Azula, and she would be lying dead there on the stairs behind her. But all Ursa saw when she turned was a violent black scar on the wood from where the lightning had landed – and a slender figure with wild, flowing hair, vanishing at the top of the stairs, screeching like a wild feline.

Uncle scooped Ursa into his arms. The little girl was quaking and beginning to cry. Her head throbbed from where Azula had clutched her hair, and her skin still tingled with the electricity from the lightning.

"I won't let her touch you again," Uncle promised. "Now, be brave! We must get away from here immediately."

He was already carrying her through the door of the teashop as he said these words. But barely had they stepped across the threshold, and there was a deafening crack, like a rip in the fabric of the world.

The Jasmine Dragon – luckily now empty of occupants – disappeared in an enormous burst of flames.

The force of the explosion threw Iroh and Ursa through the air; Iroh clutched little Ursa to his chest as they hit the ground, using his own body to shield her from the brunt of the flames and debris. They tumbled, tossed about like leaves, surrounded on all sides by a tornado of fire and wreckage. When they finally came to a stop, they were both bruised and burnt and groaning with pain, and the Jasmine Dragon was nothing but a pillar of flames behind them.

"Are you okay?" Uncle asked, his voice rasping.

"I think so," she replied, her voice trembling. She had some scratches and burns and bruises, but she knew that Uncle had taken the worst of it.

People were gathering in astonishment around the scene, but Uncle quickly picked her up off the ground and hurried around the corner of the nearest building, out of sight. He was bent double, breathing painfully. Ursa was so scared she felt dizzy, and tears were streaming down her face, leaving trails in the dirt and soot on her cheeks.

It was a dream – it must be. Some horrible, awful dream, and in a moment she'd wake up. She had to.

For some reason, even though she was hurt and Uncle was hurt and she didn't know where Azula was and she knew that the teashop and all her clothes and toys were gone forever – all she could think about suddenly was a small dagger that her father had given to her when she'd left home for the first time. It had been made here originally, in Ba Sing Se, and the inscription on the blade read, _Never give up without a fight_. She had left it in her room. Now it was gone. Somehow, the pain of losing just that one item was too much to bear, and she just rolled into a lump on the ground and cried uncontrollably.

"Come on, Ursa," Uncle said, still wincing in pain. "You are a Princess – you must put your feelings aside in order to deal with the problems of the moment. There will be a time to cry later. For now, we must keep moving. Azula will be around. She would have left the teashop before it exploded, and she'll soon realize that we escaped. We need to be long gone before that happens. Come."

He offered his hand to her once more, and she took it feebly. "Where will we go?"

"Like I told you before," Uncle said, breathing deeply for a moment to gather his strength, "we're going to see your father."


	14. Reunions: Part One

_Just about getting to the end of what I wrote earlier. I'm beginning to remember why I never finished this before... I'm tired, lol. This is a long chapter._

_DISCLAIMER: "Avatar the Last Airbender" is fantastic, brilliant, beautiful, and totally not mine._

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><p><strong>REUNIONS: PART ONE<strong>

"Sokka, I'm telling you, we've been going the wrong way for like an hour now."

"Who is steering this bison, woman? That's right: _me_. So, shush! I know what I'm doing."

Suki rolled her eyes. She was reclining in Appa's saddle, the thin wind of the sky making a mess of her auburn hair. She had taken the maps out a few minutes ago but put them away now, finally coming to the conclusion that Sokka was just going to go whichever way he wanted, regardless of whatever evidence she offered him that he was wrong. Momo was curled up at her feet, sleeping peacefully and snoring very lightly.

Sokka was perched comfortably on the back of Appa's neck, directing the bison with righteous dignity. He would never have admitted to Suki – not in a million years – that he was no longer entirely sure where they were. It was _somewhere_ in the Fire Nation, he did know that much. But where?

Well, it didn't matter, because right now they were going in this direction, and damn it, that was the direction they were going to _keep _going in. He was trying to formulate a plan by which he might get his bearings, or maybe casually change direction, without Suki noticing. But Suki was too smart; she'd notice whatever he did, and she wouldn't let it go, either. They both liked being right _way_ too much to ever pass up a single opportunity to rub it in each other's faces.

Appa seemed glad to be traveling again. Sokka and Suki had been keeping Appa on Kyoshi Island with them for the past five years (along with Momo – though Momo had actually been there for six years, since Aang had finally decided to just let Sokka have him; Sokka had always had a kind of special bond with the little flying lemur, and Aang had eventually come to the conclusion that it was inevitable that Sokka should have him). After the strange, unexpected disappearance of his owner, Appa had never fully recovered, not even five years later. For a long period of time he was so depressed he would not even fly the small distance around the island, and they had had endless difficulties persuading the bison to eat enough just to stay alive for the first year or so.

Sokka knew that Aang and Appa had had some kind of spiritual link with one another – "bonded for life" was the phrase Sokka seemed to recall Aang using once to try to explain. He had seen Aang's uncharacteristic rage years before, when Appa had once been stolen by Sandbenders in the desert and sold in Ba Sing Se's black market. But Sokka had still never fully understood how deeply the bison's unusual bond with his Airbender ran. It was almost as if, in a way, Appa and Aang shared something of the same heart; when they were separated, they both became lost, confused, not entirely themselves. Something of their identity was sundered, misplaced. He'd seen it happen to a lesser extent with Aang; but he'd seen the full effects through taking care of Appa over the past five years. Aang's absence was devastating to the bison.

Sokka had often wished Appa could speak. Sometimes he'd tried to ask him questions, willing the bison to reply. Appa must have been there with Aang when he vanished; Appa must have known – must still know – what had really happened to him. But Appa was cursed with not being able to share his knowledge, and they were all frustrated with not being able to speak Flying Bison.

Recently, though, the bison had been doing a bit better. Anyone who didn't know would have thought that Appa was perfectly fine and healthy. But Sokka had spent almost a year flying around the world on this bison's shaggy back – he well remembered what Appa was really like, when Aang was around. He knew that, even if Appa was still functioning, the bison was only half-alive, only half-conscious. He'd probably never be the same again. Not unless Aang somehow miraculously returned one of these days.

Sokka's mind drifted into grim thoughts suddenly. Sometimes he wondered if his little sister was not so different from this bison.

He hadn't seen Katara in several months – a strangely long time for them not to visit. But he knew that it had been longer since she'd gone back to visit Gran Gran, Pakku and their father in the South Pole; _much _longer. Years, in fact. She hadn't been there since Tenzin was still too young to talk.

Katara had been disappearing too, it seemed. Trying to imitate Aang – vanishing into herself, though probably without realizing she was doing it. Even Zuko seemed powerless to stop it.

For the past five years, Sokka had struggled with his own feelings as well. He missed Aang, too; no one really understood how much he did, not even Suki. Master Piandao knew – but then, he knew _everything_, even things Sokka didn't willingly offer to tell him (which could be frustrating at times). In fact, only a month ago, Sokka had gone to visit his old swordmaster at his mansion in the Fire Nation, and they'd had a chat about that very subject.

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><p>"Something's worrying you, Sokka," Piandao said.<p>

They were sparring in the coolness of the late afternoon, on the porch overlooking his master's rock garden. Sokka, after eight years of training, was good enough by now to beat his old master in a fight now and then. Although, to be fair, Sokka _did _have the advantage of youthful vigor on his side, something that Master Piandao had less and less of each time they fought.

"Oh, just the usual," Sokka shrugged, blocking his master's thrust. "There's a psychotic ex-princess after us all the time, I'm taking care of a depressed flying bison, my little sister's raising the Avatar's son by herself, Suki wants to talk about her feelings whenever I just want to sleep, and Momo's got fleas. Nothing new."

"How long has it been now?" Piandao asked, with a knowing look that always made Sokka feel a little uncomfortable.

"Since what?" Sokka asked nervously, accidentally letting his guard down for a moment and barely dodging Piandao's blade.

"Since the Avatar disappeared," Piandao said, easily avoiding Sokka's rebound strike. "Almost five years now, right?"

"Uh, yep. Just about." Sokka sent a series of thrusting jabs his way, driving him quickly backwards.

"Hm," Piandao smirked slightly, countering one of Sokka's blows. That smirk made Sokka more nervous than anything. "Still no idea what happened to him?" Piandao continued after a moment, catching Sokka by surprise suddenly with a quick turn that threw off Sokka's entire attack strategy. No doubt that was exactly what he'd meant to do.

"To who?"

"You know who."

"What, Aang?" Sokka snapped curtly, deciding it was too much trouble to rethink his attack strategy, and simply charging wildly at his master. "Nope. No idea what happened to that guy."

Piandao smiled deviously, using Sokka's impetuousness against him with a cunning dodge that made Sokka lose his balance for a moment. Sokka felt extremely frustrated suddenly, and wondered why he was having such difficulties with the fight today.

"You're still angry at him, huh?" Piandao asked finally, bracing himself for Sokka's next attack.

But Sokka didn't attack. Only looked at his master curiously.

"What do you mean?" he demanded fiercely. "I'm not mad at Aang!"

"You seem a little angry to me," Piandao commented with a shrug. "Maybe not – maybe I'm just reading too much into things."

"Now, hold on!" Sokka cried, sheathing his blade. "Why would I be angry at Aang? I mean- you know – he was a good guy! He was just like a brother to me."

"And now he's gone," Piandao nodded, following Sokka's lead and sheathing his own blade.

"Well, but so what?" Sokka growled. "We all did just fine before he came around. We're all doing just fine again. It's all just great. It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" Piandao asked, seating himself on the ground and looking at Sokka with genuine curiosity.

"No! No, it doesn't!" Sokka stormed. "I don't really see what you're driving at here. You're trying to be all wise and cryptic again, but I think you've got it wrong this time."

"What have I got wrong?" Piandao asked innocently.

"About Aang! You're wrong about Aang! See, I know what you're doing! You're trying to make me _think_ I'm mad at Aang for some reason, because of some deep inner feelings I haven't dealt with, right? But I'm not mad at Aang, so you're wrong! In fact, I don't even care that he's gone. In fact, I'm _glad _he's gone. He was always so _perky_ all the time – it got kind of annoying sometimes, you know? And all his mystical Avatar stuff, and his stupid Airbender sayings, and his always going on about the olden days or whatever, and his vegetarian issues, and how he was always so ridiculously awake in the mornings… I mean, whatever… Who needs him, right?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah, I don't know, either! Exactly! _No _one needs him, that's who! No one! Especially not us."

"You never got angry at him because of your sister?" Piandao asked quietly after a pause.

"You mean because he _got her_ _pregnant _and _then DISAPPEARED_?" Sokka could hear his voice rising to a shout by the end of his sentence, and felt his face flushing, but he was too worked up to care. "Yeah, I was angry! Of course I was angry! I wanted to kill him! Ooh, I really, _really_ wanted to kill him! But – "

He took a deep breath. Honestly, that anger had dried up in him a long time ago.

"But at the same time, I – I didn't, really. You know. I mean, he was just a stupid kid, right? _Really_ stupid. But he loved her a lot. You could just tell. I'm not so good at telling things like that, and even I could tell. It's just not right, you know? I mean, he didn't know – he didn't know what he did."

Sokka seated himself on the ground now as well, across from his master.

"He didn't know what he did when he left. He hurt Katara a lot, but he didn't mean to. I know he didn't. I just don't know… I don't know… I feel like I still want to be angry at him. I've felt like that for a while, like I really, really want to still be angry at him. But I just can't. It's like needing to sneeze, and not being able to. You ever get that feeling?"

"I think everyone does," Piandao nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, it's _just _like that, actually," Sokka went on, excited by his own metaphor. "I mean, Aang just left all of us. He was the one I talked to when I was upset about things – then _he _went and made me upset by disappearing – but I couldn't feel upset at him really because I realized the reason I was upset was because he wasn't around to hear how upset I was. You know what I mean?"

Piandao had cocked his eyebrows in mild confusion. "Um, sort of."

"He just left us, and Katara had the baby, and she was completely messed up. I mean, she still kind of is. And he's the Avatar, you know! I mean, there's no good reason for him to just disappear like he did! So I feel like I really want to be mad at him. I feel like I'd actually feel better if I was mad at him. But I just can't. I guess I liked him too much. So I'm just sad. It's been a long time, but I'm still sad. I think I'd even feel better if I just knew he'd died or something – I think the reason it won't go away is because we still don't know what happened to him. It's just… it's hard."

"I imagine it would be hard," Piandao nodded gravely, sounding sorrowful.

Sokka laughed a little then, quietly. "You know what's funny? For some reason, the thing I seem to remember most about Aang these days is this one time, a long time ago, when the three of us were in the Fire Nation – me, Aang and Katara – and we met your friend Jeong-Jeong. And Aang tried to get Jeong-Jeong to teach him Firebending. And Aang was so impatient to learn that he got carried away, and accidentally burned Katara."

Piandao looked puzzled. "That – doesn't seem very funny to me."

"No, it wasn't." Sokka shook his head. "I was really angry at him then, too. _Really_ angry. I yelled at him – I wanted to hurt him, because he'd hurt Katara. But then Aang… I don't know. Even then, when I was so mad at him, I couldn't do anything about it except feel mad, and it didn't do any good. It was Aang's fault, because he hadn't listened to his instructions. But Aang was just as upset about hurting Katara as I was that she was hurt. And so, I couldn't even stay mad at him for long. I knew he hadn't meant to hurt her – he would have done anything not to hurt her. He would have probably hurt himself to keep her from being hurt. But he was just like me, you know? Me and him were always making stupid mistakes. I could have seen myself doing the same thing, if I was able to learn Firebending. Poor kid couldn't even Firebend at all for a long time after that, because he was so upset about what he'd done. But if he hadn't burned Katara that day, she might not have realized she had healing abilities, so it turned out okay after all."

Sokka paused. He took a deep breath – slowly.

"I don't know. I just keep remembering that, for some reason."

"He burned your sister again, in a way," Master Piandao observed.

"Yeah, sort of," Sokka said quietly. "But he didn't mean to. I mean, I know he was the Avatar, but he was still just human, you know?"

Master Piandao contemplated briefly, studying Sokka carefully. "You miss him too, don't you?"

"He was a good friend," Sokka murmured. "He would have done anything, for any of us. You just – you don't find friends like that every day."

Master Piandao nodded slowly.

Sokka sat quietly for a few moments, allowing all these thoughts to settle in him. Then, suddenly, he looked up at his master, who was smiling serenely at him.

"Hey, wait!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that? You got me to talk about all that stuff by making me _not _talk about it! I hate it when you do that!"

Piandao chuckled softly. "Sorry. It just comes naturally, I suppose."

Sokka shook his head. "How did you know about all that?"

Piandao shrugged. "I didn't really. You just told me. All I did was get you started. I could tell by the way you fought today that you needed to get something off your chest."

Sokka sighed. "I've never really talked to anyone about it, all these years."

"I didn't think you had," Piandao replied.

"I needed to, though. I didn't know I needed to, but apparently I did." Sokka contemplated, shaking his head at his master again. "So… I guess, thanks for tricking me into it?"

"That's what I'm here for," the old swordmaster smirked.

The two of them soon ordered some cool drinks with lemon slices after that, to help pass the afternoon away. One day, Sokka told himself, he would have a mansion like this too, with his very own snobby butler to bring him cool drinks, and then he would be the wise and cryptic old swordmaster, puzzling all his troubled young students. He could definitely see the appeal of being that guy: the mysterious sword-guy in the mansion.

* * *

><p>"Sokka, really," Suki's voice jerked Sokka back into their present state of drifting aimlessly through the air. "Why can't you just admit that you're wrong, so we can all get on with our lives?"<p>

"Because I'm not wrong!" Sokka exclaimed, coming quickly back to reality.

Appa grunted at Sokka in a rather sarcastic manner.

"Oh, hush up, Appa! You always take her side!" Sokka scowled.

"That's because he knows I'm always right," Suki grinned.

"Not true," Sokka shook his head. "Momo, you're on my side, right?"

There was no reply except snoring from the lethargic old lemur.

"Well, anyway," Sokka went on after a moment, "Momo _would _be on my side, if he was awake."

"Uh-huh," Suki rolled her eyes again. "But Momo's brain is the size of a leechi nut, so I don't know if that helps you out very much."

"I think it's bigger than a leechi nut," Sokka protested, offended on behalf of his favorite pet. "Anyway – AHA! There it is! Oh, oh, I told you! I told _you_!"

Suki sat up in disbelief and peered over the edge of Appa's saddle. Sure enough, there was the Fire Nation capital in the distance, encircled by jagged mountain peaks shrouded in silvery mists.

"Who was right?" Sokka urged gleefully.

Suki sulked. "You just found it by accident."

"_Who was right_?" Sokka insisted.

"Fine, you were right," she admitted, laughing a little to herself and shaking her head. "I guess that makes up for the last twenty times you were wrong about things."

"Oh, just let me enjoy my moment," Sokka sighed contentedly, and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy his moment.

Momo awoke, yawning and stretching lazily, and glanced boredly at Suki, as if to query, _Are we there yet?_

Within another half hour or so, Appa was descending slowly into the heart of the capital city, aiming for a large courtyard at the entrance of the Fire Palace. The small black and red shape that was Zuko grew gradually larger as they came down, and he walked slowly out to meet them when they landed. He must have seen them coming while they were still in the air.

"Sokka!" he shouted, his thick robes swaying in the wind that Appa's large, flat tail stirred up. "You didn't tell us you were coming! Is everything okay?"

"Uncle Sokka!" cried a small voice, and Tenzin came after it, scurrying into the courtyard excitedly and stirring up nearly as much wind as Appa did. "Aunt Suki!"

"Hey, squirt!" Sokka grinned at him. Appa landed, all six giant feet on the cool stones, and Sokka slid adroitly to the ground. His arms flew open to catch Tenzin in a crushing hug, and Tenzin laughed, glad to be crushed.

"How've you been?" Sokka asked him.

"Good!" the boy replied without thinking at all. He beamed at his uncle. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"We wanted to surprise you," Suki smiled, climbing gracefully down from Appa's saddle with Momo cradled in her arms – not an easy thing to do, but she made it look effortless. "Are you surprised?"

"Yeah!" Tenzin laughed, hurrying to receive another crushing hug from his aunt. Poor Momo got caught in between them, and instantly he was fully awake, trying to squirm out of harm's way.

Zuko shook Sokka's hand firmly. "It's always good to see you both," said the Firelord. "But why didn't you tell us you were coming? Is anything wrong?"

"Not yet," Sokka shook his head, darting his eyes around the courtyard and taking in every detail in an instant. "That's why we've come, actually."

"We've lost track of Azula," Suki explained. "We wanted to make sure nothing happened here."

Zuko's expression grew very heavy, and Sokka could see that he hadn't been sleeping well recently. "Well, something _has_ happened. But not Azula. I actually meant to send you a hawk – "

"Hello," said a soft, formal voice from the doorway behind Zuko. Sokka didn't recognize the voice, but when he glanced at the speaker, he almost jumped out of his skin.

Bald head. Arrow tattoos.

Sokka and Suki both blanched in shock – made short gasping, choking noises in their throats – but it wasn't Aang. Sokka stuttered for a moment, and Suki turned pale, as if she'd seen a ghost. Then, almost at the same moment, a new wave of shock passed as they both realized that if it wasn't Aang, then it was another Airbender, and that was nearly the same as seeing a ghost.

Immediately, they both assumed wide defensive stances, raising their respective weapons – Sokka his sword, and Suki her razor-sharp fans.

"Who is _that_?" they both demanded simultaneously. Sokka's voice squeaked slightly with alarm.

"My name is Yonten," said the Airbender, stopping cautiously several paces behind Zuko, as if Sokka and Suki might be frightened away like skittish birds if he came too close.

"_He's _what happened," Zuko sighed wearily.

Then, something almost even more astonishing happened. Appa caught a glimpse of Yonten, and for a moment he burst more to life than either Sokka or Suki had seen him in five years. Rearing up on his backmost legs, he gave a great roar of joy and charged straight through all the humans to knock Yonten affectionately to the ground and give him an enormous lick with his great, slobbery bison tongue.

Tenzin burst out laughing. Sokka and Suki glanced at one another in amazement. Yonten looked undeniably uncomfortable, covered in bison drool on the ground, but he gawked up at Appa in wonder.

"A flying bison!" he gasped.

Then Appa realized suddenly that, despite his shaven head and tattoos, the person he had pinned to the ground below him was _not _his beloved long-lost rider. Instantly, Appa recoiled from Yonten and crouched back, near Zuko, growling fiercely at the impostor. Yonten, though still fascinated, looked a little frightened now as well – Appa's growl said that he very much wished to hurt Yonten, simply because he was not Aang. And Appa was considerably more intimidating than Katara; Katara wasn't large enough to kill him just by sitting on him, but Appa definitely was.

"I've never seen him do that before!" Tenzin cried excitedly, running to Appa and rubbing his small fingers through the bison's shaggy white fur. Appa and Tenzin had grown a bit of an attachment to one another over the years – perhaps Appa recognized something of Aang in Tenzin, and perhaps Tenzin had received some of Aang's affection for the bison hereditarily. Appa protectively encircled Tenzin in one of his large front paws, and glared at the new Airbender, as if daring him to come anywhere near the boy.

"Quite extraordinary!" Yonten gasped again. "He must belong to the Avatar!"

"He _belonged _to him, yes," Sokka replied coldly. Something about the way Yonten used the present tense to refer to Aang made Sokka feel strange and uncomfortable.

"I've heard stories of the flying bison, but I've never seen one," Yonten went on, wiping some of Appa's slobber off of his face. "I thought they were extinct!"

"Yeah, well, we were all pretty sure that Airbenders were extinct, too," Sokka scowled, pointing his sword threateningly at Yonten. Sokka had a bond with his sword that was nearly as strong as an Airbender with his bison. "Now, you've told us your name, but _who are you_? And how are you an Airbender?"

Suki stood alongside Sokka, her fans poised for attack. Even Momo looked rather fierce, all the hairs on his back standing on end.

Yonten sighed. He seemed slightly exasperated to have to endure this conversation a second time.

Zuko spared him, though not because he felt particularly like doing the Airbender any favors. He simply preferred to explain things himself.

"The Airbenders _weren't_ all killed, apparently," Zuko said. "There were a small number who survived. They've been in hiding all these years, though he hasn't told us where. Yonten's come out of hiding because he had a message for Katara from the spirit world." Zuko gave Sokka a meaningful look. "A message about Aang."

"What?" Sokka and Suki gasped together, gawking back and forth between Zuko and Yonten.

"It's okay, Uncle Sokka!" Tenzin smiled, extricating himself from Appa's protective reach and gliding like a windblown leaf over to his uncle. "I know all about how Avatar Aang is my daddy. Yonten says he's not dead – just stuck in the spirit world, that's all. Momma's gonna go save him soon!"

Sokka now gawked at Tenzin. He couldn't believe it – was the world turning upside down? Had Katara finally lost it? Something boiling, a deep rage, churned in his stomach. He couldn't let this happen. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Katara. It wasn't fair to Tenzin. It wasn't fair to any of them! It was ridiculous!

"Katara _believes _this guy?" Sokka scoffed, darting a suspicious look at Yonten, who was standing at a distance and still staring in fascination at Appa.

"He was… convincing," Zuko replied softly. Sokka could tell he was quite unhappy about the entire situation. Sokka didn't blame him – he was feeling a little irked himself.

"Well, he hasn't convinced _me _yet!" Sokka announced, striding past Zuko straight toward Yonten. Yonten barely twitched an eyelash as Sokka took hold of his ragged brown cloak. The tall Water Tribe warrior towered easily over the small Airbender, and his blue eyes glowered fiercely.

"What have you told my sister?" Sokka asked him sternly. Suki came closely up behind him, still with her dangerous fans drawn threateningly.

"Ah… so you are Katara's brother?" Yonten asked calmly, entirely ignoring Sokka's question.

"_No_, I'm a flying lemur-bat! Don't you see the resemblance?" Sokka growled sarcastically, gesturing at Momo, who seemed to be trying very hard to comprehend the situation.

"No need for sarcasm," Yonten shrugged. To Sokka's aggravation, he seemed completely unconcerned - even slightly amused.

"Answer his question!" Suki commanded him fiercely, raising her fans toward the Airbender's neck.

"Uncle Sokka!" Tenzin shouted in alarm, tugging on the edge of Sokka's shirt. Appa drew near, growling warningly, uncomfortable with Tenzin being so close to the impostor, but also too uncomfortable to get near enough to fetch Tenzin back. "Aunt Suki! Don't hurt him!"

"Tenzin," Sokka said quietly, "not now."

"It's okay, Tenzin," Zuko reassured the boy. "Come stand over here for a minute."

"But – " Tenzin tried to protest.

"Don't worry, Tenzin," Yonten nodded at him. "Do as they say."

Tenzin obeyed. Sokka only felt angrier then, angry that this Airbender – this impostor – had already won over Tenzin. How dare he just show up and insert himself into everyone's lives like this, and disrupt the already precarious balance they had all just barely managed to sustain over the years?

"Listen to me, Airbender," Sokka growled at Yonten, still holding him tightly by the shirt and giving him a glare that could have frozen a Firebender. "I don't know you, and I don't trust you. And I've spent every minute of the past five years looking over my shoulder, afraid of what might be behind me. I'm just a little on edge, you understand. And now you come barging in, thinking you can just take over and tell Katara and Tenzin things that they probably don't need to hear. And I'm just letting you know _right now_ that I don't plan on standing for this."

"I'm sorry," Yonten said humbly, "but I'm not sure you fully understand – "

"No, you're right, I don't," Sokka interrupted him. "But that doesn't change the fact that Katara is my baby sister. Do you know anything about sisters, Airbender?"

"Um… well, I've never had one, but – "

"Then you _don't _know," Sokka snarled. "You can't know. So let me make this clear: if Katara gets hurt, in any possible way, because of something you've done, then _I _am going to hurt you. Badly. Got it?"

"Yes, of course," Yonten replied quietly. "But I would never – "

"I don't want to hear it," Sokka scowled, still not releasing Yonten from his angry fist. "Even if you have good intentions – which I'm not sure you do – you have to understand that Katara is broken. She's been broken for a long time, and for years all I've wanted is to be able to fix her, and I can't. And if you come along and sabotage whatever little healing she's managed to do, and break her even more by getting her hopes up for nothing, then I'll make sure you wish you'd never come out of hiding at all, no matter what mystical messages you think you got from the spirit world."

Yonten didn't answer this time. Sokka had successfully silenced him; the Airbender seemed to realize that, for the time being, there would be no point in trying to convince Sokka he was not an enemy.

Sokka finally released his grip on Yonten, and turned to Zuko, who was standing with a hand on Tenzin's shoulder, watching the scene with an expression of dull futility.

"Now, where's my sister?" Sokka asked.

* * *

><p>Katara was in the back courtyard, sitting underneath the tree on the bank of the little pond. Her legs were folded over one another, her hands on her knees, her back straight as a rod. She was watching the ripples in the pond, intricate ripples traced out of the water by the subtleties of the wind. On the other side of the pond, a mother turtle-duck was swimming with her three babies, and they were all quacking and squawking merrily, free of the world's troubles.<p>

She was focused very hard, mesmerizing herself with the patterns that the air made in the water's surface, and so she did not even hear when Sokka entered the courtyard. Even when he was only a few steps beside her, she was completely unaware of his presence.

"You really ought to blink once in a while," he finally commented.

She gasped, and sprang to her feet faster than a lightning bolt. The turtle-ducks squawked and swam away, startled by her sudden movement.

"Sokka!" she cried, throwing her arms around her brother's neck.

"Hey, Katara," he said quietly, squeezing her tightly.

"I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed, laughing a little bit with the surprise. "You didn't tell us you were coming! I'm so happy to see you! Is Suki here too? Did you bring Appa and Momo? Does Tenzin know you're here? Why did you come? There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

"Geesh," Sokka laughed. "One thing at a time. Actually – first, how about we just sit down and relax for a minute?"

"Fine with me," she smiled, resuming her seat on the ground. Sokka sat down beside her, contemplating the ripples in the water as well.

"I'm so happy to see you, Sokka," she said again, beaming.

"I'm happy to see you too," he said. "You've been sort of hiding from everyone."

"What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Well, Gran Gran and Pakku told me you haven't been to visit them in about four years now," Sokka replied. "And you haven't been to Kyoshi Island in about three years, right? From what I've heard, you barely ever leave the Palace."

"I leave," she protested rather feebly. "I take Tenzin out into the city now and then."

Sokka shrugged. "I've just been a little worried about you, I guess. I mean, I've been worried about you for five years now, but even more so recently."

"Sokka, you don't need to worry about me," she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. That isn't why you came today, is it?"

"Well, it sort of is," he said. "But I'll tell you about that later. I need to talk to you about something else right now. See, I just met someone out there who made me feel a little… upset."

Katara paused. "Yonten," she said.

"How'd you guess?" he smirked.

She glanced sideways at him. "Did you talk to him?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Sokka nodded, looking very hard at her.

"So… then, you know why he came here? What he said, about…"

"Aang."

"Yeah." She sighed. So he knew. He'd probably already made up his mind about exactly what he thought, and would not be persuaded otherwise now.

"I didn't listen to much of what he said, though, honestly," Sokka admitted. "I really wanted to hear it from you. I want to know exactly what he told you, and why you think he's so worth listening to."

"You've already decided he's not worth listening to, though, haven't you?" she accused him. "Just like Zuko."

"I'm not in favor of it, no," Sokka shook his head. "But you know I respect your opinion, Katara. I'll support whatever decision you make."

Katara didn't fully believe that Sokka would support _whatever _decision she made. But she did know that he would do anything for her – even if it meant taking a rather daring leap out of his own comfort zone. He'd done it many times before, after all. He'd even been there to help with Tenzin's delivery – and that was an ordeal far more traumatic to him than anything else. She trusted him to be understanding. Understanding enough, at least.

"He said that Aang was abducted by a spirit five years ago, and he's been lost in the spirit world," she explained. "He doesn't know much about the spirit that took him, except that it's something called the… the Face-Stealer." She shuddered violently. Even still, just thinking of it made her dizzy with horror.

"The _what_?" Sokka cried, aghast despite his skepticism.

"I don't want to say it again," she whispered, closing her eyes to press out the thoughts and images in her mind. Aang – trapped in the dark – the monster of her nightmares creeping up behind him – his face, gone. What could it have been like? What must it _feel _like, to have your face stolen? It was too horrible to think about. Imagining Aang suffering that unthinkable terror pierced her heart like a blade.

"Okay… so… a Face-Stealer has Aang," Sokka gulped. He'd been abducted into the spirit world once before, and well remembered the terror; but the spirit that had taken him had eventually turned out to be a rather friendly giant panda bear. He didn't imagine something called the 'Face-Stealer' would be quite so cuddly.

"Yonten thinks I can save him," she went on. "And he wants to help."

"I see," Sokka scowled. "And it's his business, why?"

She gave him a look. "Because – because he was the one who got the message. He thinks it's Destiny that he was sent here to tell me all this. He doesn't see why he would have been sent here if there wasn't a chance to save Aang."

"Right," Sokka grumbled. He never bought all that _Destiny _business. People made their own choices, fought their own fights. Even with Aang – sure, he was the Avatar. But he hadn't defeated the Firelord because of Destiny. He'd done it because of his training, and because he'd had his friends to help, and because – well, because he was _good_. But he could have failed; or he could have run away. He chose his own path. Sokka hoped Katara wasn't buying all that nonsense, but something told him she was.

"So, where exactly did he get this big message?" Sokka asked cynically. "Did _Destiny_ give it to him?"

"He was meditating, and someone from the spirit world told him to come bring the message to me," Katara said. "He knew who I was, Sokka."

"So what? That doesn't prove anything! What if he's just after his own thing, and figured you'd be an easy person to use?"

Katara shook her head. "What would he be after, Sokka?"

"I don't know," Sokka shrugged. "He's part of some group of super-secret, long-lost mystical Airbender survivors. Who knows what those guys might be up to?"

Katara just gave him another look. He knew it wasn't the best argument – but still.

"Anyway," Sokka went on, "let's just assume that he's okay, and he thinks he's doing some good by coming here to tell you all this. But how do we know that whatever spirit that sent him is really telling the truth? What if it's just the same spirit that took Aang, and now it's trying to get you too? You know, to complete its collection of… faces." Now Sokka shuddered.

"I've thought of that," she sighed. "I haven't completely lost my common sense yet. But – I don't know. There are just… _things_."

"Can you be a little more specific?" Sokka replied rather sarcastically.

Katara sighed again, looking back down at the ripples in the water. "I never told you about my dreams, did I?"

That took him a little by surprise. "No, you didn't," he answered curiously.

"Ever since Aang disappeared," she explained, very quietly – she'd never told anyone about her dreams until now, "I've been having these nightmares. They're all different, but they all end the same. I'm with Aang again, and everything seems to be going okay. But then, something always happens. It's different every time, but something happens to Aang. Usually some huge creature I can't really see, with a white theater mask, comes after him – or somehow he ends up in the pool at the North Pole spirit oasis. He gets his face covered, and whenever I uncover it, it's… it's just gone. There's no face there."

Sokka stared very hard at her.

"I've been dreaming that for five years, Sokka," she said. "It's just – it's just too much of a coincidence. It has to be true, about the Face-Stealer."

"That… well, that _is _strange," Sokka admitted, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable and disturbed. This sort of thing did not mesh well at all with his safe, rational ideas about the order of the universe. "But what about the possibility that whatever sent Yonten here is bad, and is trying to get a hold of you?"

"Yonten said that the spirit he talked to was a woman," Katara replied. "A woman with a red blindfold. That sounds to me like Princess Zara."

"Princess Who-now?" Sokka asked in bewilderment.

_"Zara,"_ Katara repeated impatiently. "Remember? Wife of Avatar Tenzin? The one my Tenzin is named after? The story about the princess who slept forever? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Oh, yeah… I sort of remember you telling me about that."

Katara shook her head. He didn't remember it at all.

"Anyway," she said. "In all the pictures, Zara always wears a red blindfold. I think somehow she came into contact with Aang in the spirit world, and sent Yonten here to tell me."

"Well, okay," Sokka said slowly, "but what if the Face-Stealer thingy just took _her _face and used it?"

Katara sighed again. "Yeah. I've thought of that too. But, I don't know. I just – I can't really believe that. It doesn't… it doesn't _feel _right. I know that sounds stupid, but… well, whatever sent Yonten here… it must have really known about Aang."

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Well, I…" Katara blushed, ashamed of keeping so many secrets from her brother. "I never told you this, Sokka, but – before he left, Aang – Aang asked me to marry him."

Sokka gaped at her, open-mouthed. "_What_?"

She couldn't look at him, but quietly pulled Aang's necklace out of her pocket and twisted it in her fingers. "He gave me this necklace. I never told anyone, and no one knew about the inscription on the back. But Yonten knew, somehow."

"He asked you to _marry _him?"

"Yes, Sokka," Katara answered hastily, flushing. "But did you hear the rest of what I said?"

"Wait, wait – this is huge," Sokka shook his head, waving his arms at her. "So, wait – what did you _say_?"

"To what?"

"To what! To _Aang_! When he _asked you to MARRY HIM_!"

Katara glared at him, then looked away. The shame was simmering.

"I, uh… I said I didn't know if it would work," she finally admitted, quietly.

"You told him _no_?" Sokka cried. _"Katara!"_

"Not exactly _no_," she protested, feeling hurt and angry. She'd beaten herself enough about that over the years – she didn't need Sokka to add to the beating. This was exactly why she'd never told him before. "I said I didn't know. And I changed my mind anyway. I was going to say yes. But he – he didn't come back, you know. So I didn't get the chance."

Sokka was boiling, and he wasn't sure why. Whether it was the shock of suddenly learning that Aang had once proposed to his sister, or the sorrow that Aang had been so close to being his brother-in-law, or the astonishment that Katara had rejected him, or the anger that Aang had disappeared before Katara got the opportunity to change her mind – as if he hadn't given her a fair chance - he didn't know. Sokka knew that last reason was ridiculous, but he felt it nevertheless.

Finally, the rest of what Katara had said about Yonten and the inscription seeped into his sometimes impenetrable skull. Something legitimately strange was going on, he realized.

Katara was still looking fiercely away. He felt suddenly a little guilty, seeing that he'd hurt his sister. He tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she jerked out of his grasp bitterly.

"Okay, Katara," he finally said, very softly. "I'm sorry. I can see now why you believe the guy. But – I mean, what are we going to do about it? What are _you _going to do? He thinks we can save Aang, but how?"

She sighed frustratedly. "I don't know. That's why I'm still here. Yonten's already been here for a few days. Don't you think if I knew what I was supposed to do, I'd already be off doing it? Apparently we only have until the Winter Solstice, or Aang's going to be too far gone for us to get him back."

"Well!" Sokka scoffed. "Nice of Yonten to wait till the last minute! Couldn't he have told us all this, I don't know, like _five _years ago!"

"He came as soon as he got the message," she said. "It also took him a while to find me. The spirit didn't really tell him much, just my name."

"So helpful," Sokka rolled his eyes. "And nothing about how to save Aang, either, right?"

"The spirit said I would know what to do, and that it has to be me who does it," she grumbled. "I have no idea why. And I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"I guess you've got to get to the spirit world," he said.

"Oh, sure, I'll just do that!" she cried, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "I'm not the Avatar, you know! I can't just sit down, close my eyes for a few minutes, and _get _there!"

"Hm," Sokka contemplated, watching the turtle-ducks circling one another in the pond. Round and round – it distinctly reminded him of something. A sad memory of his. The first girl he'd ever really loved: a beautiful white-haired princess who had become the Moon spirit herself, and a pond not much bigger than this, with two black and white Koi fish perpetually swimming in circles round each other.

But that was there. This was just a pond.

"Too bad," he muttered.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking," he shrugged. "Too bad this pond isn't all mystical like that pond at the Spirit Oasis in the North Pole. I bet that would help you out."

Katara's entire face lit up. "Sokka – you're a genius! The Spirit Oasis! That's where my dreams always end, at the North Pole! That's where I always uncover Aang's face! That's where everything happens! Why didn't I think of that? It's so obvious! That's where I have to go! Oh, Sokka!" She threw her arms around his neck, exulting in the epiphany.

"What!" he exclaimed. "Now you're going to North Pole, to go jump in some fishy pond? Katara – stop. Just think about this for a second. The North Pole is a long way off. We're not kids anymore – we can't just go flying off like we used to. What about Tenzin? And what about Azula? The reason me and Suki came here today is because we don't know where Azula is. We came to make sure that she wasn't here. I don't feel comfortable with you going off by yourself, or with Tenzin, on a long trip to the North Pole on the off chance that you _might _be able to save Aang."

She looked at him solemnly, pondering and troubling.

"But I have to go, Sokka," she finally said quietly. "You don't understand – there's a chance for me to bring Aang back. I can fix everything – I can give Tenzin his father back – I can give Aang a chance to live again. I _have _to. Wouldn't you do the same for Suki, or me, or mom? Even if it was just a small chance, wouldn't you take it?"

Sokka sighed, studying her carefully.

"Yes," he finally admitted. "I probably would. But I still don't know – "

She turned away from him, hugging her knees to her chest. "Sokka," she breathed. "It's so hard."

"I know," he nodded.

"No, you _don't_," she shook her head firmly. "It may be hard for you, but it's a different kind of hard for me."

"I know that too, Katara," he said quietly.

"Sokka," she said softly, "if you really think it's the wrong decision, then… then I'll think about what you say. I can't guarantee I won't go, but I _will _think about it. Tell me the truth."

Sokka contemplated for a long while, struggling with himself. It was dangerous – it was so risky – she might fail – she might be hurt, or killed, or come home even more irreparable than she already was – Tenzin might lose her, and he might too – she was his little sister. But she was strong, and brave. And if she succeeded… If she did it, then Aang would be alive again; Tenzin would have a father again; Katara would be well again; Appa would be whole again; Sokka would have his brother back. Maybe he was only resisting because it seemed too good to actually happen. But wasn't it too late? She'd already been offered the chance. If she didn't go, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She would never heal.

"Tenzin can't go with you," he finally spoke up, coming to his reluctant decision. "But if you really feel like you need to go, then… then I guess I'll go with you."

Katara's blue eyes blazed at him, and her mouth grew into a wide smile.

"Sokka!" she gasped.

"I still don't like it," he added, just to be clear on that point. "But I think you need to go – at least to get some closure – and I don't want you to go alone."

She tackled her brother in a tight embrace, stuttering with excitement. "Sokka! You… are… the… nicest… brother… ever! We have to go right away! There's no more time to waste! We should leave tonight!"

"Whoa, whoa," Sokka patted her shoulders to calm her down a bit. "I think we can wait one night. I just flew all the way from the South Pole, remember? I'm tired. And we really ought to plan ahead a little bit, anyway."

"We can take Appa!" She was excited beyond being reasoned with. "We'll get there ten times as fast! And once we get Aang back…"

"_If _we get him back," Sokka tried to correct her.

"Appa will be so happy!" she beamed. "I guess Yonten's going to want to come too."

Sokka grimaced. "Oh, yeah… Do we have to bring him?"

"He'll insist on going. Remember? _Destiny_."

"Right." Sokka rolled his eyes. "Okay, but if Appa won't let him on his back, then he's not going. We'll say that's proof that Destiny is telling him to stay home."

"Zuko's not going to be very happy about this," Katara commented suddenly.

"Nah," Sokka shrugged. "But he's never happy."

"True."

"I think he'll feel better with me going with you." Sokka pondered for a moment. "We ought to make a quick stop at the Earth Kingdom before we really get going."

She glanced at him curiously. "What for?"

"There's someone else I _really _think should come with us." Sokka nodded meaningfully at her, and she nodded back after a moment, grinning slightly. She knew exactly who he meant.


	15. Reunions: Part Two

_Hurray! This is the last chapter that I wrote before. Now I am satisfied that I got it all out of my computer and up here. I never wrote any past this, though of course I had some ideas about how it was going to go... I don't know right now if I want to try to finish, though. If anyone really wants me to finish, then I will try. We'll see how much more complicated this thing can get._

_DISCLAIMER: "Avatar the Last Airbender" does not belong to me!_

* * *

><p><strong>REUNIONS: PART TWO<strong>

"Miss Beifong?"

"Yeah, whaddya want?"

The petite, black-haired girl whirled on her butler menacingly. Though her eyes were ghostly with blindness, she always still managed to make them glare in a way that never failed to make all of her servants, students, and Earthbending opponents quake. The fact that she was the most powerful Earthbender in the world, and that she had grown up to be frighteningly beautiful, only added to her powers of intimidation.

"Ah… I – I'm very sorry," the butler stuttered stupidly. All of Toph's young Earthbending students (that is, all of the ones not currently blindfolded) cast sympathetic glances at the whimpering servant.

Toph had taken over as the primary Earthbending teacher in the city of Gaoling, and in fact all of the southern Earth Kingdom, since the retirement of her own former useless teacher, Master Yu. She held regular classes here in the enormous backyard of the Beifong mansion, and though her results were universally acclaimed, and young Earthbenders came from all around the Earth Kingdom to be trained by her, most of her small students were utterly terrified of her. Two young boys stood at the moment perched atop two stone pillars, blindfolded, struggling to keep their balance; four girls and boys had paused with huge boulders on their backs, their legs trembling; and four other students were currently covered in suits made of stone, sparring one another. Toph herself was dusty and fierce.

"You _know _I don't like interruptions while I'm teaching," she fumed, tapping her foot impatiently. "Now, hurry, spit it out. I don't have all day. What's going on?"

"Um… th-there are… two visitors here to see you," the butler stammered.

"Tell them to make an appointment," Toph waved her hand dismissively. "I'm a very busy woman. You should know better than to bother me for – "

"But Miss Beifong – "

"What?"

"It's… it's the Firelord's Uncle and the princess," he said, whispering so that only Toph would hear.

Toph paused, taken aback. That was not what she'd expected. She launched a wad of spit at a nearby bush pensively.

"Okay, class," she said after a moment, turning back to her exhausted students. "Keep on doing your exercises. I'll be back in a few minutes. Remember – _you _move the rocks, not the other way around! Sturdy and head on! Think Badgermole. And no goofing off while I'll gone, or it'll be back to blindfolded boulder laps for all of you."

All of the students moaned in terror (much to Toph's satisfaction) and resumed their activities, as sturdily and head-on and Badgermole-like as possible. Toph made a half-hearted attempt to dust herself off, and marched away toward the mansion. The vibrations in her feet gave her a clear picture of all the other servants crowded around inside the house, watching through the windows, and she could feel all of them scatter like bugs when they saw her coming. She snickered inwardly – they'd probably made bets about what she would do to the butler for interrupting her. He was following along behind her anxiously, but seemed relieved to have escaped punishment.

"Go find my parents," Toph ordered the nervous butler once they were back inside the mansion, standing in a parlor so clean that Toph's filthy presence there was almost a desecration. "Make sure they don't freak out, please. Especially my dad – you know how his heart is."

"Toph?" came a soft voice from the doorway on the opposite side of the spacious parlor. Toph smothered a groan.

"Hey, mom," she grinned innocently. The shape of her mother, wrapped in thick robes, stood timidly on the threshold.

"What's going on?" Poppy Beifong asked. "There was someone at the door."

"It's nothing to worry about, mom," Toph reassured her. "Just some of my friends come to say hello."

"It's not that Avatar boy and his Water Tribe friends again, is it?" she asked in concern. Toph sighed wearily. She loved her mother, but sometimes her lack of knowledge about the world outside of Gaoling – indeed, just outside of the Beifong mansion – bordered on the absurd. For five years, Aang had been missing. Everyone in the world knew that. Toph had explained this to her mother, many times. And yet, there's a knock on the door, and the first thing she's worried about is that its Aang and Sokka and Katara, come to persuade Toph to run away with them again.

"No, mom," Toph ran her fingers impatiently through her tangled, dirty hair. "It's just old Iroh. Remember, the teashop guy?"

"Oh, him!" Poppy's concern melted away immediately. The fact that Iroh was the Firelord's uncle, and that he had also once been the most feared general in the Fire Nation army, was information that Toph had never felt the need to divulge to her mother. To her, he was just 'the teashop guy.'

"Such a nice man!" her mother smiled. "And with such wonderful tea! I'll have the servants set an extra place at supper tonight."

"Better make it two," Toph nodded. "He's got his niece with him."

"Oh, how nice!" Poppy sighed. Toph could feel her approaching her, and thought for a moment of finding an excuse to get out of there quickly – but she reconsidered. She had always taken pains not to hurt her parents – her mother, particularly, for she was just so damn sensitive – ever since she'd returned home. Disappearing for several months to go join the Avatar on his world travels, without so much as a good-bye to either of them, was quite as much injury as Toph wished to inflict on her parents for the rest of their lives.

Yet, even still – even though she'd proven herself to be quite capable of living on her own, and had more than proven that not only was she _not _the helpless little blind princess her parents had always believed her to be, but that she was the most powerful Earthbender in the world – even now, after she'd taken over the house and made it clear that she was not going to be sheltered and over-protected any more, after she'd started her own prestigious Earthbending school, and begun running the underground Earthbending fighting stadium – even after _all that, _they still insisted on fussing over her.

Poppy came now and started dusting off Toph's clothes, straightening Toph's messy bangs, pushing them back from her eyes – which they still customarily hung straight over – and behind her ears.

"Mom, stop, it's fine," Toph tried to lean away.

"You aren't going to greet your guests like _this_, are you?" Poppy shook her head, clicking her tongue. "It isn't right for a proper young lady!"

"But they already know I'm not a proper lady," Toph rolled her eyes, blowing at her bangs and sending them into disarray once more. "Don't worry about it, mom."

"Oh, Toph," Poppy sighed, shaking her head yet again. "It's no wonder you can't find yourself a good husband, when you're always so unkempt all the time! Don't you want to settle down? Don't you want to give your father and I some grandchildren, like a good girl?"

"Why would I want to settle down?" Toph asked in exasperation. She was sick of this conversation – her mother had been trying to convince her to get married since she was fourteen.

"What about that handsome Water Tribe boy?" Poppy suggested hopefully.

Toph burst out laughing – she couldn't help it. She'd had a little crush on Sokka when she was _twelve_. That had passed long ago. But it was still amusing to her that her mother would bring it up, especially after just a few moments ago when her mother had seemed so worried that Sokka, Katara and Aang were going to show up at her door to cause trouble.

"Um, he's already married, mom," Toph chuckled. "Sorry."

"Oh," Poppy seemed disappointed. "Well, maybe if you had taken better care of yourself, and acted more like a lady, he would have married you instead."

"Uh-huh," Toph muttered hurriedly. This conversation was quickly developing from tedious and slightly amusing, to tedious and very awkward. Toph turned to the butler once more, who'd been standing there the entire time wondering what to do with himself. "Here, take my mom back upstairs and get her a cool drink. And make sure my dad is comfortable too. I'll deal with the guests – they don't need to concern themselves with that. And when you've done that, see that the servants set two extra places at the table tonight, and prepare a guest bedroom."

"Yes, Miss Beifong," the butler bowed, and eagerly escorted Poppy away, happy to be free of Toph's dominating presence.

Toph waited until her mother and the butler were safely a couple of rooms away, and then quickly made her way toward the foyer, where the guests would be waiting for her.

Why would Uncle and Ursa be here? They'd come for visits before – Uncle and Toph had always got along well, ever since Toph had run into him coincidentally in the Earth Kingdom years ago – neither of them had known at the time how connected their lives actually were, but they'd shared some very nice tea and an interesting conversation. Toph had often looked to Uncle for advice, and Uncle had often brought Ursa there for her training, to learn the philosophies of Earthbending and incorporate that into her Firebending. Toph had always liked little Ursa as well; they shared a similar sarcastic impetuousness that would have driven a straightforward, thoughtful person like Katara insane.

But ordinarily Uncle sent word of his coming far in advance, to be sure Toph could accommodate them. Hopefully nothing was wrong.

Before Toph even stepped into the foyer, however, she could tell that something _was _wrong. She could feel the forms of Uncle and Ursa in the next room, and could sense that both seemed very tense and anxious. Uncle moved with a strange clumsiness as well, as if he'd been injured somehow.

"Hey!" she cried, marching grandly into the foyer. "What's going on?"

Ursa immediately ran to Toph, without saying a word, and threw her little arms around the dirty Earthbender. She was shaking with tears.

"What happened?" Toph asked, now even more alarmed.

"It's good to see you, Toph," Uncle said in his usual jovial way, though Toph could feel that he was just covering for how injured and worried he really was. "So sorry for not letting you know we were coming. It was sort of a last-minute thing."

"Something's wrong," Toph declared abruptly, too impatient to be as polite as Uncle. "You're hurt. Ursa's crying. Tell me what happened."

"Is there somewhere more private we might talk?" Uncle asked, referring to the servants who perpetually lurked nearby, waiting for orders.

"Here," Toph gestured to a couple of servants who had been standing in the corner of the room. "Take the guests to a room and get them a bath, some clean clothes – whatever they ask for. I've got to get back to my class, but when it's over we can talk."

"Good," Uncle said, as the servants bowed obediently to Toph and began to escort the guests out of the foyer. "You wouldn't have some tea, by any chance, would you? And maybe some roast duck. Oh, I could really go for some good roast duck!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, Uncle, what's going on?" Toph demanded, leading the old man out into one of the massive gardens connected to the Beifong mansion.<p>

Her classes had ended hours ago, but they hadn't had a chance to talk until now. Her parents had insisted that everyone sit down to a proper dinner as soon as Toph was free. They hadn't given either Uncle or Ursa a single moment to themselves, badgering them with questions about Ba Sing Se and the teashop and whatever other insignificant trifles they so enjoyed chatting about. Toph had endured it all impatiently, taking careful note that Ursa did not speak at all throughout the conversation, which was very odd for her. And Uncle still seemed off somehow – he wasn't walking or sitting right, and he seemed to wince and hesitate at the smallest movements. He answered all of her parents' questions with a happy demeanor, but Toph knew he was lying – she'd always been able to tell when people were lying, even if they were very convincing. The only person Toph had ever met who could blatantly lie without showing a single sign of it was Azula.

And something told Toph that Azula was not as far from their conversation as everyone was pretending.

"Something's happened," Toph went on, guiding Uncle to a small bench in the gardens. He was clutching at his side and tensing up in pain. "You've been hurt somehow. I could feel it as soon as you got here."

"A minor abrasion, nothing more," Uncle dismissed it lightly. He was lying again, but she didn't press the matter. "I'm afraid that I lied to your parents tonight."

"I know," she nodded. "I can tell. Remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course I remember," Uncle laughed a little. "I hoped you wouldn't be too upset."

"I lie to them all the time," Toph shrugged. "They're happier that way."

"Yes, I did not want to worry them unnecessarily," Uncle said. "I would not have come here at all. But you see, I'm afraid that Ursa and I have run into a… a difficult situation recently."

"Is it Azula?" Toph ventured in a hushed voice. She knew there was no one nearby to overhear them, except for a curious mouse skittering nearby through the grass – but she lowered her voice anyway. This had become a kind of habit for everyone over the years: speaking about Azula in whispers.

"Yes," Uncle confirmed, also lowering his voice, which quivered with rage and grief. "She has destroyed my tea shop."

Toph reeled for a moment. _Destroyed_? She knew he'd been lying when he told her parents that everything was fine, but she hadn't expected that. She hated being blindsided – it hardly ever happened to her.

"She destroyed it? When? How? I thought she was on Kyoshi Island?"

"Not anymore, I'm afraid," Uncle groaned, tensing up with pain yet again. Toph waited, allowing him to recover. She didn't like seeing him weak like this, knowing full well how powerful he really was. Being strong, but treated as frail, was something she understood very well – and loathed.

"You did not get the message from Ty Lee, then?" he asked her.

"No, I haven't got anything," Toph furrowed her brow, hoping that one of her parents hadn't found the message and thrown it away without her knowledge.

"They lost track of her about a month ago," he explained. "It seems she's given up on them after all these years, and is moving on to whoever is next on her list. Which, I fear, means me and little Ursa."

"So… the teashop is just… _gone_?" Toph still could hardly fathom it.

"Nothing left," Uncle growled, and Toph could sense the fierce emotion stirring within him. "She nearly took us out with it, but we managed to get away. At least we have our lives to be thankful for. But the next time Azula dares to show her face…"

He trailed off, overwhelmed with fury, clenching his fists. Toph wondered what exactly he was planning on doing to Azula – perhaps _he _didn't even know what he would do – but she imagined it would not be anything at all pleasant or merciful. She patted his shoulders, hoping to calm him down a bit.

Toph found herself remarkably unconcerned, despite the shock that the teashop was gone and her worry for Uncle and Ursa. She'd never worried much about Azula coming after her – it was different for her. If Azula was lurking anywhere near the mansion, no matter how sneakily she concealed herself, Toph would know she was there long before she was near enough to do any damage. And Toph felt pretty sure that Azula barely remembered who she was, anyway – their closest encounter had been during the invasion on the Day of Black Sun, but other than that… Really, the only reason Toph would be a target was simply because she was in the good-guy group.

Then again, Toph wondered if maybe she ought to be more concerned. Azula seemed to forget no one – not even a poor, unsuspecting servant girl that had once accidentally left a pit in her cherry. And Toph would not have expected Azula to be able to catch Uncle by surprise, much less destroy the tea shop. Really, it was her parents that concerned her most. They were both so fragile and useless; Azula could kill them without batting an eye.

Toph kicked the dirt fiercely with her toes.

"Shit," she spat out bitterly. She was a naturally easy-going person; living always on edge was as uncomfortable and constricting to her as wearing clean shoes.

Uncle nodded. "Shit, indeed," he repeated wholeheartedly. Toph couldn't help but grin slightly – she'd never heard Uncle swear before.

"I did not want to come here at all," he confessed finally. "If Azula is trailing us, I didn't want to put you into any more danger than you already are."

"I can take out Azula," Toph scoffed.

Uncle growled at her sternly. "Don't be so nonchalant, Toph. I know you can get a little overconfident sometimes – though, of course, you are definitely skilled enough to warrant it – but overconfidence can lead to foolish blunders. And when Azula is after you, a single foolish blunder cannot be afforded. You understand?"

"Yeah," Toph sighed.

"We were on our way to the Fire Nation capital," Uncle continued. "It will be safer there, and I would prefer to have both Ursa and Zuko in my sight. Ursa needs her father now, anyway."

Toph nodded. "Katara and Tenzin are still there, too. Are you sure it's really a good idea for all of you guys to be together like that, in one place? I mean, shouldn't you, y'know, split up?"

Uncle shook his head solemnly. "You might think so at first. But keep in mind, Azula has easily taken out her targets when they were alone. But think of Kyoshi Island. Sokka and Suki and Ty Lee, and all the other Kyoshi Warriors, they looked out for each other – and she was not able to take them out for several years, and now it seems she's given up. If we are all together, we can fight together."

"True," Toph said.

"The real problem is," Uncle said, and he suddenly sounded rather embarrassed, "Ursa and I don't have enough money to get to the Fire Nation. Everything was destroyed in the tea shop."

"Oh!" Toph laughed. "Well, if it's _money_ you need, I can help you out with that, no problem. But are you sure you don't want to stay a while? You know, rest and heal? Azula will have trouble sneaking up on this place, trust me."

Uncle chuckled a bit, but shook his head. "It is a kind offer, my dear little friend, but I'm afraid I must refuse. My nephew needs us as soon as possible. You see… it seems someone has finally found our missing Avatar."

Toph leaped to her feet in surprise and excitement.

"What!" she exclaimed. "No way! Someone found Aang? What happened to him? Where did they find him? Who was it? Is he okay?"

Uncle shook his head again, sighing. "I don't know, Toph. I only received a quick message from Zuko about it just before Azula's attack. He wanted us to come home – he seemed a little concerned."

"Concerned?" Toph sat back down, furrowing her brow. So – it wasn't good news, then.

"He did not explain much, but it seems my nephew is lost again," Uncle sighed wearily. Toph patted his old shoulders sympathetically – he'd confided his worries for Zuko to her many times before. As far as Toph knew, she was still the only one in the group privileged enough to know everything that Uncle thought and felt about Zuko. "He doesn't know what to do with whatever this information is that's been dropped into his lap. And I'm afraid – I'm afraid that my nephew is in love with young Katara."

Toph wasn't sure how to reply. She'd suspected the same thing for a while, but – like everyone else in the gang – she'd simply not said anything about it. She felt sorry for Zuko. He had so much potential, such a good heart. But for as long as Toph could remember he'd squandered his potential goodness in outbursts and emotional defensiveness and endless self-doubt. Toph was sure that Katara hadn't meant to make the poor guy fall in love with her. She'd always been the sweet, pretty one in the group – it was just in her nature. But Toph felt a little annoyed at her anyway. She should have known better. She should have been prepared for it, or should have prepared Zuko for the fact that she was not going to let go of Aang, _ever_. Maybe if Zuko had known in advance, this might have been avoided.

Toph rolled her eyes slightly. _Floozy_, she thought to herself, shaking her head. She did rather miss Katara, though.

"Love is a disastrous thing," Uncle commented somberly. "It can make you crazy. You might end up falling into a deep hole of sorrow from which you can't get out, and you might end up circling the world on a wild goose chase. You never know _what _might happen, but once it happens, there's no stopping it."

"Well, lucky you don't have to worry about me going crazy any time soon, right?" Toph commented, snickering lightly.

Uncle just chuckled and patted his young friend's arm. "One day, young Toph, the disaster will strike you as well. Just you wait. You are much too pretty, and much too stubborn, to escape it for long."


	16. Two Apparitions

**A Brief Message From RainAndRoses, an Author Who Has Trouble Finishing Stories That She Starts, But Is Trying To Get Better:**

_HOLY COW, it's been a long time since I updated this one!_

_Well, a couple of people have been begging me for quite a long time to finish this story - thanks so much to all of you! Seriously, I've been truly touched by some of the messages people have sent me about this story, and honestly I might have forgotten about it forever if not for everyone (NeoMaelstrom, you get a special shout out - I hope you have not given up hope on it after all this time!) I'm so sorry that it's taken me SO long, but I have only recently had the time and motivation to come back to it._

_Yeah, so... I re-read the whole thing... Forgot how depressing it was... Had a good cry and realized I'm a horrible person (seriously, I made dear sweet Aang get his face stolen? What kind of monster am I?), and finally sat down and figured out how I want the rest of it to go. I'm not completely satisfied with a few of the earlier parts, so I might go back and make some small changes. But nothing major. _:D

_Also, of course, as I've now also noted in Chapter 7, thanks to Legend of Korra it's now been revealed that Tenzin is Aang & Katara's YOUNGEST child, not oldest. I'm well aware of this fact. However, despite my almost obsessive desire to stay as faithful to canon as possible, there's not much I can do about that little discrepancy. So... oh well. _*shrug*

_This chapter's a bit of a bombshell (hopefully a good one!). I figured I'd resume this long-neglected story with something... unexpected. _^_^

_Hope you all enjoy, and glad to be back! (And I'm going to _actually_ finish it this time around, I promise!)_

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><p><strong>TWO APPARITIONS<strong>

_ONE_

A moonless night hung gently over the shores of Ember Island.

Halfway between midnight and dawn, the eastern beach was deserted, save for a single fisherman strolling home, whistling beneath the stars, and contentedly swinging a bucket full of fish. His fishing pole bounced on his shoulder as he sauntered across the cool sand. He never fished during the day – too many people, crowding his space. He'd never much liked people. The company of the stars and the conversation of the sea were both quite good enough for him.

He yawned, then stopped walking. A deep, solemn sound had suddenly reached his ears, drifting through the night air from somewhere far away. It made the sand beneath his feet vibrate. It sounded – it sounded like _music_. But then, not really. At least, not like any music he'd ever heard.

For a few moments, he thought perhaps he was imagining it. It was a gentle humming, yet so deep that it seemed to make the world shake. Almost too deep for his ears to process, but he _felt _it. The air rippled with it. But where it was coming from, he couldn't tell. From nowhere; from everywhere. From the earth itself, like a throbbing, chanting heartbeat.

Then suddenly he saw, in the deep darkness ahead of him, that a patch of stars was missing from the horizon. Blocked by some enormous shape that appeared to be drifting through the sea, drifting toward the shore. The throbbing hum grew deeper, reverberating in his bowels.

The fisherman trembled, dropping his bucket of fish and his fishing pole. He wasn't a superstitious man. But something was happening – something strange – and an uncanny dread washed over him, chilling him to the bone. For a few moments he stood, frozen in that spot, just watching that black shape draw near to the shore. The sight of it, and the unearthly music, was hypnotizing. As it came closer, he began to realize exactly how massive the thing really was: the size of a mansion. No, _bigger_ –like a small mountain floating upon the waves. The edges of its silhouette became gradually sharper in the darkness; it looked like a thick forest that had collectively picked up its roots and gone adrift in the sea.

The ocean boiled around it.

In a matter of moments, it would be at the shore.

And in the dim starlight, he suddenly thought he saw – two ancient eyes, gazing solemnly out from the front of the shape.

Squeaking with terror, he turned and fled, leaving behind his bucket and fishing pole, and scrambling behind a nearby pile of rocks. But he poked his head cautiously out; though he was quivering in his fright, he couldn't help but watch.

The strange floating forest with eyes soon rolled itself heavily up to the beach, displacing massive waves, yet hardly making a sound. But the deep vibrations, that chanting heartbeat, pounded with increased intensity in the souls of the rocks themselves. For what seemed like a very long time, the huge apparition merely rested there near the shore. The night air swelled with an aroma the fisherman could barely fathom – a thick, rich and unsettling smell. The smell of beginningless time.

Then, what looked like an enormous leg, thicker than the trunk of the most ancient tree in the world, emerged slowly out of the trembling water and arched toward the thing's back. When it came down again, a small figure was standing on it, silhouetted in the darkness: a dark-haired woman, wearing a cloak that billowed in the breeze as the massive creature brought her carefully down to the shore. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then stepped off of the giant leg and onto the sand, turning back to face the great eyes of the creature.

"Have no fear," a gentle, resonant voice shook the night, again so deep that it was _felt _more than _heard_. "Those who live not for themselves, but for others, will find the peace that they seek."

The cloaked figure began to bow to the creature, when suddenly a different voice – a smaller one, human this time – was heard in the heavy air.

"Sen!" it said, and the fisherman could see that it came from another person, one perched at the edge of the trees that coated the creature's back. "Don't do this, I beg you!"

"I must, Gendun," said the woman on the shore, gravely. "I'm sorry."

"But you will never be able to return," the man on the creature's back said, his small voice aching with grief.

"I know," she said. "But I can't stay. Not anymore. It has to be this way. It's time."

He didn't reply for a few moments. Then, suddenly, with a swift whir of wind, he was in the air – he was _flying_, drifting down like a leaf onto the sandy shore beside her. He wordlessly gathered her into a solemn hug, which she returned. Then he looked at her with deep sorrow, and slowly nodded.

"We will miss you," he said.

"I'll miss you all so much," she replied, and her voice quivered. "Good-bye, Gendun. Please explain to the others why I've gone, and – and tell Tseten that she's the most caring and wonderful person I've ever known, and I'll never forget all she's done for me."

"I will," he nodded. "She'll understand why you've gone."

"Thank you."

"Good-bye, Sen," he said. "And good luck. I pray you find what you're looking for."

The cloaked woman looked down for a moment, and seemed to be shaking slightly. Then she hugged the man again, and, after reluctantly releasing her, he glanced around the beach, and launched back into the air on a gust of wind that kicked the sand up into swirling eddies. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished somewhere into that dark forest on the creature's back. The woman turned to the giant creature again, and its eyes gleamed foggily in the starlight.

"Be strong, dear mother," said the thing's deep, unearthly voice. "And do not look back."

The cloaked woman bowed to the creature, then stood, tall and serene, watching as the living island slowly drifted back out to sea and vanished into the darkness.

The fisherman watched this entire scene, wide-eyed and trembling, not daring to move from his hiding place behind the rocks. When at last the woman turned away from the sea – in a quick, almost painful motion – and began walking back in his direction, he simply fainted.

In the morning he'd wake up amongst the rocks, his back aching and his head pounding, and would trudge home with his fish, convincing himself that it was all just a strange dream.

But the woman herself, she continued past the unconscious fisherman, never seeing him behind the rocks. She made her way across Ember Island, her bare feet recalling the feeling of those paths, all her senses drinking in the overwhelming details of the place, her mind carrying her back to memories that she had not visited in many years. At last she found herself in the abandoned vacation home of the Fire Nation royal family, where she wandered the halls, absorbing it all carefully.

And in one room in the mansion, she found a small ceramic slab on display, with a young boy's handprint embedded in it. Her own fingers drifted over its surface gently, tracing out the shape – remembering. And a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Well. Here I am," she whispered, with only the peaceful moonless night to hear her.

* * *

><p><em>TWO<em>

The pale winter sun rose early over the Earth Kingdom. In a thick forest, where a path cut through the trees on its way to the great city of Ba Sing Se, the air was silent and tranquil, holding its breath for the beginning of the day.

Like a bolt of lightning, a sleek eel hound flashed through the trees, shattering the early morning silence with its rapid footfalls. The eel hound's rider, a bleary-eyed messenger, yawned and turned his steed sharply to the left, off the path and into the trees.

He was quite familiar with this road, having traversed it back and forth too many times to count. His old eel hound knew it well enough too, and the man probably could have dozed off into a nap and let his steed carry him to their destination while he slept. But it wasn't easy to sleep on the back of an eel hound, the fastest animal on earth and sea. The speed was convenient, of course; but the rapid travel itself was a bit too intense for complete relaxation.

The man yawned yet again, trying to recall the last time he had a good, long, _deep _sleep. He steered his eel hound through the trees toward a small, rocky clearing where a miniature waterfall trickled into a cool forest pool. They stopped here every time they passed by this way. It was off the beaten path, and perfect for a refreshing drink and a quick nap.

Dismounting, the man led his eel hound to the edge of the pool, and knelt himself to splash the cool water into his face. Sputtering and blinking, he shook his head and got up to get his steed a quick snack out of the saddlebags.

Aside from the gentle bubbling of the water, only a soft, heavy silence breathed through the forest. He sighed deeply, trying to keep himself focused, while the tranquility of it all fogged his senses soothingly.

Suddenly, something darted between the trees near the clearing.

The man blinked.

No. There was nothing there. Perfect stillness.

He shook his head again, yawned, and rubbed his eyes, digging back into the saddlebags. The early morning light must be playing with his mind. That, and his lack of sleep over the past couple of days. It really wasn't good for him, pushing himself like this. Next time he'd try to make more stops for naps along the way.

Wait – there it was again! A shadow flitting amongst the trees, just beyond his sight. Like some kind of phantom.

"Hello?" he called, feeling a little bit nervous, though he wasn't sure why. He still wasn't even entirely sure that he'd actually seen anything, or if he was merely imagining it.

Nevertheless, he took his sword with him when he went to investigate.

"Is someone there?" he asked, cautiously approaching the trees. All he saw moving now were the sparse leaves trembling slightly in the breeze.

For several moments, he held his breath, waiting. Perhaps he would see it again. Perhaps it was some kind of forest spirit, a guardian of the trees. Or maybe he was jumping to conclusions.

Nothing happened.

He waited, listening, searching. But nothing continued to happen.

At last, he exhaled, rubbed his eyes again, and sheathed his sword.

The next instant, two slender, pale hands gripped him from behind, and with a violent crack, his neck was snapped. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless, never to know what hit him.

"Thank you, my good man," said the tall young woman who now stood in the clearing, smirking at the limp body that lay at her feet. "An eel hound is just what I needed."

Her long brown hair was wild and unkempt, whole handfuls torn out in places, falling unevenly over her amber eyes. And burning in those eyes: vivid cunning, piercing intelligence, and a spark of something chaotic, deranged and dangerous.

Turning away from her clueless victim, she approached the eel hound with dexterity and caution, reaching out slowly to get a hold of its reins before it ran from her.

The eel hound backed away at her approach, and when she finally lunged for it, it turned and braced itself to bolt – and if it had, it would have vanished in an instant, far too fast to be overcome by any other living creature on foot.

However, she was quicker to react, sending a powerful blast of searing blue fire at the trees behind the frightened animal, incinerating them. The eel hound instinctively recoiled from the fire, back toward her. And she seized the opportunity to grab hold of the reins and swing herself onto the beast's back.

The eel hound snarled and thrashed its tail, trying to throw her, but she would not be thrown. Hanging on with one hand, she leaned back and swung her other arm, creating a slender whip of blue fire, which she snapped threateningly. With a throaty yelp, the eel hound took off in terror, gliding through the trees at a dizzying speed.

And Azula laughed with triumph, and pulled hard on the reins, turning her brand new steed back around toward the west – toward the Fire Nation, where her throne and her brother awaited her.


	17. Detour

_Yay, another new chapter! It's a long one, too. With lots of info stuffed into it, like a fat exposition burrito. Woo-hoo!_

_And there's much more to come soon... Sure is nice to be back in this story again! _:D

_DISCLAIMER: This world and these characters are still not mine. Except for Yonten, because I made him up. And Little Ursa too, I guess... Though if it turns out in Legend of Korra that Zuko's daughter actually IS named Ursa, I might just soil my pants with happiness... But I also wouldn't be very surprised. _^_^

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><p><strong>DETOUR<strong>

_"I just can't get over this! It's incredible! Can he go any higher? I can't believe you do this ALL THE TIME!"  
><em>

Rolling his eyes, Sokka gripped Appa's reins a little tighter and fought to hold back the deluge of sarcastic remarks simmering inside him.

Behind him in the saddle, Katara was laughing. She couldn't help it: serious, soft-spoken Yonten - who had not allowed his formal demeanor to fall away since the first day she'd met him - was currently wide-eyed and breathless with exhilaration, beaming and leaning so far over the edge of Appa's saddle that he looked like he might go tumbling off at any moment. And he'd been this way since they'd first taken off from the Fire Nation palace... about an hour ago.

"Look how far away the ground is!" he cried excitedly, catching a glimpse of some of the Fire Nation's spectacular rocky terrain through the haze of clouds far below them.

"Yep. That's what happens when you fly," Sokka muttered irritably. "The ground gets far away."

Sokka was still annoyed that Appa had consented to let the arrow-headed pipsqueak ride on his back. He'd hoped, judging from the bison's initial reaction to Yonten, that Appa would refuse - thus giving them a convenient excuse to leave Yonten behind. But it seemed that after their short rest in the Fire Nation, Appa had relaxed his defenses somewhat with the strange Airbender. Though Appa was still clearly not totally comfortable with him; just tolerant.

Personally, Sokka felt much less tolerant, and was currently toying with the idea of giving Appa a sudden little nudge that would tip Yonten over the edge of the saddle.

"Don't tell me you've never flown before," Katara said curiously, reaching out and pulling the Airbender back a little from the edge, as if she had some intuition about Sokka's private thoughts. "I mean, don't all of the other Air Nomads still fly? I know you don't have any sky bison, but - I can't imagine Airbenders who don't fly!"

"Well," Yonten said, still glowing with elation but reluctantly consenting to half-way sit down for a moment. "We have our gliders. It's not usually safe for us to fly very far, though. But this - this freedom! This is what I've been longing for my whole life!"

He got up again and tossed his head back in the wind, breathing deep, then threw his arms into the air with an exuberant whoop. Katara laughed again; she was already feeling quite giddy herself, and to see someone like Yonten - who'd come across as so perpetually somber - suddenly acting like a six-year old on his first poodle-pony ride was just too amusing.

"Hey, _sit down_, Airhead!" Sokka commanded, glowering over his shoulder at the Airbender, who was again leaning precariously out over the edge of the saddle. "Unless you want to get reacquainted with the ground."

"Oh, lighten up, Sokka." Katara rolled her eyes, leaning back in the saddle in blissful laziness.

"I'm light!" Sokka retorted. "I just want Tornado-Breath over there to get a grip. Seriously, we've been flying for over an hour now. If he's gonna be like this the whole way, then I'm going to lose my mind."

"Hm!" Yonten said, sitting down with a half-perplexed, half-amused smile. "'Tornado-Breath.' Now that's a new one."

"There's plenty more where that came from, trust me." Sokka huffed. He still had a long way to go before he warmed up to this new Airbender the way Katara seemingly had. Sokka's trust was not a prize easily won, especially for someone who shouldn't even have existed, and _extra-_especially for someone who had interrupted the relative normalcy of their lives the way Yonten had. Besides, Sokka had been hoping that he and Katara might finally have some much-needed quality time on this wild-goose chase, but Yonten's alien presence there effectively threw everything out of balance for him.

Even aside from all that, the entire situation just seemed... wrong. Flying to the North Pole on Appa's back, with an Airbender who wasn't Aang. Sokka felt like he'd slipped into some very uncomfortable parallel life, and even - in a strange, roundabout way - like he was somehow betraying Aang. Each time he even glanced at Yonten, the word "impostor" sprang inevitably into his thoughts. This little twerp might be bald and covered with arrows, but he was no Aang, that was certain.

Meanwhile, Katara was fully aware that Sokka was still not very happy with the situation, but she just couldn't bring herself to care about his crankiness; not even a little bit. For her own part, she felt buoyant enough to float right out of the saddle. Here she was, soaring through the sky on Appa's back just like in the old days. Sokka was with her, which - regardless of his bad mood - was more than good enough for her. He was there by her side again, _on _her side, helping her: they were a team again. And most of all, now, at last - _at last - _she felt like she finally knew what she had to do. They had a plan, they knew where they needed to go. And she was going to get Aang back.

_Aang._

Alive again. Restored to existence. _Real_.

It had been so long. It was almost too impossible to believe.

After all this time, just the idea of _seeing _him, not as a dream or a vision, but actually there, with her, in the flesh...

How long had it been? How many days, how many hours, since she'd last heard his voice - his real voice? How many minutes had passed since the last time she'd actually touched the arrows on his hands, or seen his eyes?

Just the thought of hearing him breathe again, hearing him be alive... Listening to him talk, watching him laugh... The very, very small and simple joy of suddenly being_ surprised_ by something he said or did, because he was no longer merely a figment of her imagination but was actually, finally _himself__, _unpredictable and alive and there and real...

Katara couldn't stop these thoughts. She shuddered, but in a good way. In a way that gushed up from something deep and beautiful inside of her, something that churned and boiled as her ideas spiraled like a wild whirlpool.

She could hardly believe that after so long, now, finally, she knew where he was, and all those questions that had been festering within her for years had been answered. He hadn't abandoned her; he wasn't dead; she could bring him back. She could save him. It was feasible. Inevitable, even.

Aang would be hers again, soon, and after these five miserable years of waiting and regretting, everything was finally going to turn out all right. It _was_. In just a couple of weeks, they'd be at the North Pole, and then all the grief and shame would be undone, and things would go back to the way they were, back before he left, before her terrible mistake. Back when it was the two of them, together, and the world had been good.

_A couple of weeks_. Katara shivered again, almost afraid of the potent happiness she felt. Only days away. Each hour, each minute brought her closer. It was so soon - she was so close. All she had to do was hold out a little while longer, and then...

Then.

She smiled to herself, shutting her eyes softly against the wind that tossed her hair. Her fingers drifted over the familiar surface of the well-worn, well-loved betrothal necklace tucked safely away in her pocket, while a foggy daydream passed before her eyes. She had been replaying it in her mind again and again since her conversation with Sokka by the pond the day before, and each time she did, the fantasy developed more and more beautiful, indulgent details.

She imagined herself at the North Pole, bathed in the moon's pale glow. She was arriving, being escorted to the gate which led to the Spirit Oasis, with Sokka close behind her. She was kneeling in the soft, lush grass of the oasis, reaching into the pond - her fingers were sliding gently into the water. Sokka was holding his breath, and so was the crowd that had gathered round to watch.

Aang was somewhere below the surface of the water, though she couldn't see him. Katara knew it didn't exactly make sense, but she didn't care. She was touching his hand - taking hold of it, firm and strong - pulling him back up to the surface, pulling him back to the mortal world, pulling him back to life.

His hand was emerging from the pond, followed by the rest of him. She was taking his other hand now, lifting him to his feet. - _Katara?_

And while he stood there dumbfounded and dazed, blinking in the moonlight, she was throwing her arms around him, holding him tight, savoring the tangibility of his warmth, his shape, his heartbeat. Everyone was cheering. She was proposing to him on the spot, unabashed and blunt.

_- Katara! - _

He'd be surprised and flustered, but happy. His face would turn red, and they would both laugh. They would be married the next morning. Tenzin would be there - somehow - it didn't matter how, but he'd be there. He had to be, to finally meet his long-lost father and be complete for the first time. All their friends would be there, the whole family. Everyone they loved. They'd all have a beautiful day together. It would be perfect.

_Just two more weeks. Just two more weeks. Just two more -_

"Hey, KATARA!"

She opened her eyes, staring blankly at Sokka. He was giving her a rather strange look.

"Hm - what?" she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I asked if you could hand me my bag of seal jerky. Please. It's in the pack right next to you."

"Oh." Katara blinked for a moment, and shook her head. "Sorry. I just - sort of drifted off into a daydream there."

"I noticed." Sokka scrutinized his sister carefully as she handed him the small bag of seal jerky.

"What was your daydream about?" Yonten asked.

"Oh," she shrugged, smiling rather blissfully out at the clouds. "Nothing really. Just - nothing."

Sokka turned forward again slowly, gazing steadily out over Appa's shaggy white head to the blue sea that loomed below them, munching gravely and pensively on the meat.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until later that evening that the sandy shores of the Earth Kingdom materialized hazily below them through the thick clouds. Sokka rubbed his eyes wearily, squinting in the dimness of twilight. Katara had dozed off a while ago, and Yonten had - thankfully - been quiet for hours, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.<p>

Appa spotted land at precisely the same moment Sokka did, and immediately let out a loud, insistent grunt.

"Yep, I see it," Sokka replied, rubbing the bison's furry head. "I know you're tired, pal. It's about time for dinner, anyway." He flicked Appa's reins, bringing them down to the shore.

"So," Yonten finally spoke up, yawning broadly, "I was wondering, why exactly do we need to make this detour to the Earth Kingdom again?"

Sokka yawned as well, feeling instantly annoyed at the Airbender for a million different reasons, one of which was just the sound of him talking again. Another was the fact that Yonten had made him yawn, and Sokka didn't like the idea of catching anything contagious from him.

"We're picking up someone," Sokka replied curtly.

Yonten hesitated, sensing Sokka's annoyance. After an awkward pause, the Airbender just sighed resignedly, wondering what he'd have to do to make Sokka not hate him.

"Well, yes," Yonten murmured, trying not to sound exasperated. "I gathered that much. But who?"

"Her name is Toph Beifong," Katara replied, having awoken from her doze when she sensed them descending. She also yawned, stretching. And thus, Sokka yawned yet again, followed by Yonten, followed by Appa, whose yawn was by far the most impressive of the four.

"Do you really think we need to bring anyone else?" Yonten asked Katara, cautiously dubious. "I mean, no offense to your friend, but I'm just a little concerned. We don't have much time to waste on long side trips. The Solstice is in less than a month."

"Oh, relax," Sokka rolled his eyes, pulling up on the reins as Appa's feet made contact with the earth. A cyclone of sand swirled around them, and they all three shielded their eyes, waiting for it to settle. "We've got plenty of time. Appa can get us there and back to the Fire Nation with time to spare."

"Besides," Katara added, climbing down from Appa's saddle, "Toph's one of our closest friends, and her skills are unbelievable. Trust me, Yonten, I want to get to the North Pole as soon as possible. But, she's a part of our group. One of the family. It just - it wouldn't seem right if we went without her."

Sokka muttered something under his breath, sliding down to the beach and landing heavily in the loose sand.

"What'd you say, Sokka?" Katara asked. Yonten fluttered out of the saddle, stirring up a small sandstorm as he landed.

"Nothing," he said, keeping a wary eye on the Airbender while he untied his pack from the saddle. Appa yawned dramatically and nestled down on the ground, wearily flapping his massive tail and sending a large cloud of sand into the air. Katara, taking her cue from Appa, likewise found a suitable spot on the beach and made herself comfortable, pulling off her boots and digging her toes into the sand with a blissful expression on her face.

Sokka quickly began making himself busy, gathering the supplies needed to prepare a quick supper for the three of them. He could feel the Airbender approaching him hesitantly from behind, and he clenched his teeth with irritation, fighting to relax his tense shoulders. _Don't be a jerk_, he commanded himself._  
><em>

"Can I do something to help?" Yonten offered.

"No, I've got it. Thanks." Despite his efforts, the words still came out sharp and cold. He couldn't help it. Honestly, though, he couldn't bring himself to really care.

Yonten backed away from the disgruntled Water Tribe warrior with a small sigh, discouraged, but hardly surprised.

Although Sokka had his back turned to the both of them, he thought he could feel Katara's eyes piercing the back of his head. He pretended not to notice, occupying himself with the fishing equipment, but small wafts of shame began to creep in nevertheless. He didn't feel bad about being rude to Yonten; but Katara's disappointment gave him unhappy indigestion.

"Come with me, Yonten," she finally said. "You can help me gather firewood."

Sokka's fists tightened for a guilty instant, and he bit his lip briefly, but didn't turn to look at either of them. Somehow, the fact that she hadn't confronted him about his coldness made him feel even more ashamed. He was rather glad when the two of them disappeared a few moments later over the nearby dunes, wandering toward the sparse trees in the distance. A little time alone was just what he needed right now.

Gathering the fishing equipment, Sokka waded into the ocean until it was waist-deep, and cast his line out. Appa sighed loudly and rolled over in the sand behind him, while Sokka frowned to himself, distracted and troubled by his own thoughts.

_It's not right_.

That sentence had been repeating in his head, again and again, pounding through his brain like a violent heartbeat, like a destructive mantra, almost constantly since his conversation with Katara the day before.

_It's not right_.

He exhaled sharply, fiercely.

_What_ wasn't right? He didn't know, exactly. Nothing was right. Everything about this whole situation was wrong. He didn't know why it was wrong, or how he knew that it was wrong. It just was. He couldn't shake the conviction that it was.

What troubled him most at the moment was Katara. He'd been taking careful note of her emotional state over the past couple of days, and ever since his decision to join her on this crazy mission, she'd been... well, different. Happy, yes. But in a way that worried him.

Of course, he was glad to see her feeling so carefree, after so many years of brokenness. The problem was, nothing had been fixed yet. The brokenness hadn't gone away. But he feared that she was pretending - no, not pretending - _persuading _herself that it had.

After their first talk by the pond, when he'd given her his reluctant support and they'd begun to form their plan, it seemed like a part of her mind had just suddenly stopped working. Like she wasn't fully herself. He knew very well what Katara was like when she was genuinely content, and this wasn't it. This was Katara in denial, burying herself in a fantasy, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Behaving as if the end had somehow already been predetermined, and all they had to do now was get there.

She'd always been an optimist, of course. But - optimism was one thing. This was something else entirely. Something Sokka suspected might not be exactly healthy.

He'd been debating whether or not he ought to talk to her about it. But that Airbending impostor was always there now, _lurking_, and he didn't feel comfortable talking to Katara with that pipsqueak invading their space.

Still, though, maybe he ought to at least try to say something - anything. Just something small that would break through her unnatural bliss and bring her back to earth: Aang wasn't saved yet; not even close. And Azula was still out there, somewhere, hunting them all down. And little Tenzin was depending on her to actually come back from this quest, an outcome that was far from guaranteed.

And... well. _The Face-Stealer_.

Perhaps just those three words would be enough to jolt her out of her irrational reverie, since during the past couple of days she seemed to have willfully forgotten exactly what nightmare she was on her way to confront.

But he couldn't do that to her. Her cheerfulness did worry him; it wasn't normal. But, _but_ - damn it, but she was just so _happy_. For the first time that he could recall in five years. Even if it was a false happiness, he couldn't bring himself to shatter it.

Although, he thought grimly, he felt pretty sure that good old Reality would be stepping in to shatter it quite thoroughly before too long.

_It's not right.__ It's not right._

"I know, I know. Shut up," he muttered bitterly at his own urgent thoughts, feeling impatient, impotent, and increasingly furious at everything. "There's not much I can do right now."

He violently flung his fishing line farther out into the water, and Appa began to snore behind him.

* * *

><p>About an hour later, day had fully given way to night, Katara and Yonten had built a small fire on the beach, and Sokka had caught a satisfactory dinner, which was currently being roasted on a spit over the fire. While they waited for the fish to cook, Katara pulled an armful of various fruit out of one of the saddlebags and began to feed Appa, who'd awoken from his nap demanding food a few minutes earlier.<p>

"So..." Sokka began, turning over the spit and squinting sideways at the Airbender. _"Yonten."_

"Hm?" Yonten looked at Sokka, seating himself cross-legged on the ground.

"While we're here," Sokka said slowly, "why don't you explain to me exactly how you got that mysterious message from the Spirit World?"

Sokka once again felt Katara's scrutinizing eyes turn upon him from behind, but he ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed firmly and suspiciously upon Yonten.

The Airbender grew very solemn, and his eyes dropped to the sand. He sighed deeply.

"Well," he began slowly, quietly, "It's a rather long story. I... it all began a few months ago. I'm afraid I, too, lost someone very dear to me. My Aunt Sen."

"Aunt?" Sokka furrowed his brow skeptically. "I didn't think Airbenders had things like... aunts."

"Oh," Yonten looked up at him, surprised, and then he chuckled slightly. "Oh, she wasn't _really _my aunt, of course. I've just always called her that, since I was very little. It was what she liked to be called. I'd - ha, I'd gotten so used to it - one of those things that's just so normal, you never even think about it. You know what I mean?"

"Hm," Sokka grunted.

"Did she die?" Katara asked softly, coming to join them by the fire.

"No," Yonten replied after a moment, growing even more grave and enigmatic. "No, she still lives. In a manner of speaking."

"Care to explain?" Sokka quipped sarcastically.

Yonten sighed heavily; his face twisted with grief for a small instant.

"It's - it's rather difficult," he finally said. "She, uh... Well, I hardly understand what happened myself. But some years ago, she began to have... _dreams_. I don't know what exactly she dreamt about, but her dreams were always deep, and dark, and... _powerful_. She had a - a troubled history, you see. She once told me that she was being haunted, that the past was chasing her down. Like I said, I'm not sure what exactly it was that was haunting her; she never told me any details. She never told anyone about her past."

"Wait, wait, hold on a minute," Sokka interrupted, throwing his hand up incredulously. "I'm just a little confused. I was under the impression that your top-secret Airbender club was pretty, erm, _close-knit_. Right? I mean, just by necessity. And also that no one ever left the group. Ever. Except - well, except you, of course. So how is it that this lady had some big mysterious past that no one knew about?"

"Sokka." Katara gave him a critical look.

"What?" he shrugged, feeling slightly irritated at her willingness to believe Yonten without question. "I'm just saying. Think about growing up in the South Pole, Katara. Everyone knew _everyone_. No one had any secrets. The whole thing just doesn't really add up to me."

"What about Gran-Gran?" she pointed out. "Even you and I didn't know about her life in the North Pole, and her engagement with Pakku and all that, for a long time."

"Yeah, but Gran-Gran came from outside," Sokka argued. "It's not the same."

Something in his mind told him he _was _being a little bit ridiculous, with his extreme aversion to trusting a single word that came out of Yonten's mouth, regardless of what it was. If Yonten had declared that the sun came up in the morning and went down at night, Sokka still probably would have had a cynical rebuttal for him. It didn't matter. It wasn't exactly that Sokka didn't believe the Airbender. It was just that Sokka felt uncomfortable with the idea of Yonten _thinking _that he was willing to believe him.

It made sense in Sokka's head, at least.

"Well," Yonten replied slowly, his eyes shifting a bit, as if he wasn't sure of exactly how much he ought to say. "Yes, you're right, Sokka, in a way. But, uh... You see, Aunt Sen wasn't _exactly_ an Airbender."

Katara and Sokka both raised their eyebrows at him.

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Sokka asked skeptically. "How can you be _almost_ an Airbender?"

"I thought all the Air Nomads were Airbenders," Katara asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Yes, we all are," he nodded at Katara. "And - I'm sorry, I misspoke. You're right again, Sokka. She wasn't 'almost' an Airbender. She just _wasn't _one. She wasn't an Air Nomad at all."

Katara paused, taken aback. "Oh."

"So," Sokka frowned, wondering what Yonten was trying to hide from them. "So, where did she come from, then? And how did she end up in your secret Airbender group?"

"We don't know where she came from," Yonten replied. "She wasn't born among us. I don't really know how it happened, honestly. I was very small when she came to live with us."

"So did she find your hiding place on purpose, or by accident?" Sokka pressed.

Yonten hesitated, and once again his eyes darted awkwardly. "Well," he said. "She didn't really _find _us. It was more like she was... found."

"Found?" Sokka raised his eyebrows at Yonten.

"Yes. Found."

"So - you guys found _her_, then?" Sokka demanded impatiently, failing to see why Yonten was being so cryptic about this.

"She was found," Yonten repeated hastily, not looking either of them in the eye. "And we don't know where she came from. She never told us, and we never asked. She wanted to start a new life. Her past wasn't important to us."

Sokka scowled, sighing with frustration and glancing at Katara. Her blue eyes drifted from the strange Airbender to Sokka, puzzled, and she finally shrugged at him, as if to say she was just as lost as he was, but there didn't seem to be any help for it.

_There's something off about this whole thing_, Sokka thought to himself, frowning and pulling the spit out of the fire to test the tenderness of the fish. Yonten was trying to cover up something: there was some tidbit of information he didn't want either of them to know. Did it have to do with the Air Nomads' hiding place? Was he afraid that they'd go out looking for it? Was he trying to protect something, or someone?

Or - Sokka's suspicious mind immediately jumped to a darker possibility - did it have something to do Aang's plight, somehow? Had Yonten failed to tell Katara something important about this journey she was taking?

Sokka couldn't imagine what Yonten would be keeping from them regarding Aang, or what their current situation could possibly have to do with his strange "aunt" and the other lost Air Nomads. But the Water Tribe warrior's fists tightened with defensive apprehension, nevertheless.

"Okay - well, anyway," Katara finally broke the silence, readjusting herself in the sand and absent-mindedly twirling her hair around her fingers. "Back to the story. So, your Aunt Sen was having strange dreams?"

Yonten nodded. "They just became worse and worse over the years," he said. "We all could see that they weren't normal dreams - that there was something spiritual about them. Something _alive_. But there was nothing any of us could do to help, and Aunt Sen always insisted that it was a struggle she had to deal with on her own. But after a while, her dreams became so real to her that she began to have difficulty returning to the waking world. And then one day, a few months ago, she - she just didn't wake up at all."

"What happened?" Katara asked. Sokka was a bit startled at the sudden quiet intensity in her question.

"I don't know," Yonten breathed, full of sharp sorrow. "I don't know. No one understood it. Sister Tseten - she's one of our elders - she said that her mind was lost, that she'd somehow lost hold of what was real. No one could wake her up. She just kept sleeping for days, feverish and sick. Her nightmares must have been terrible, because she kept on shouting in her sleep, calling out names that no one recognized and begging for forgiveness for something no one understood."

Sokka shifted his eyes carefully from Yonten to Katara. She was staring intently at the Airbender while he spoke, and Sokka could see a storm brewing in her eyes.

Yonten's voice quivered slightly. "And so finally," he went on, "after a few days of that, when she still wasn't showing any signs of waking up, I decided _I_ should try to do something more to help her. Aunt Sen and I were - " He sighed deeply, his voice quavering slightly. " - We were very close. She had always taken care of me, since I was small. So I thought I could take care of _her_, do something to heal her."

He gathered his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly, gazing at the sand beneath his toes.

"I started to meditate," he said. "I went deep into the Spirit World, deeper than I'd ever been before, hoping maybe I could find something there, someone who could help fix her. I did that for three days. That was when I received the vision of the woman with the red blindfold. She showed me her realm: it was like a garden, full of many creatures - men, women, children, animals, spirits - all with their faces wrapped in cloths. She told me about the spirit called the Face-Stealer, who had stolen the faces of all these creatures I saw. Then she gave me a vision of an Airbender I had never met, and told me that it was Avatar Aang - that he'd had his face stolen as well, and that it was very urgent that I find you immediately, Katara, and tell you what I'd seen, and help you find your way to the Spirit World before the Solstice to save him."

Yonten fell silent, and neither Sokka nor Katara said anything for a few moments. The waves rolled solemnly along the shore, and Appa breathed steadily behind them.

"So," Yonten finally concluded, fidgeting awkwardly, as if he was not sure what else to say, but thought something more needed to be said. "So... so then I left. And... that's all."

"What about your Aunt Sen?" Katara asked. "What happened to her?"

Yonten shrugged, looking away and biting his lower lip for a moment. "I was assured that she would recover on her own," he said. "That the battle she was fighting within herself was not my concern, and she was strong enough to fight it alone. She was still lost in nightmares when I last saw her, though." He closed his eyes tightly and said nothing more.

Sokka watched Katara watch Yonten.

Her eyes were fixed on the Airbender, but they were also turned inward. Something about the story had gripped her. Sokka couldn't pretend to fully understand what sorts of emotions were wrestling within his sister at the moment, but he did know her well enough to know that the turmoil in her gaze ran deeper than she was going to let on.

After a heavy pause, she sighed. "I'm sure your Aunt Sen is okay," she reassured him. "You'll get to see her again one day, after this is all over." A soft, sympathetic smile crossed her features.

It seemed as if Yonten made an effort to return the smile, but couldn't quite manage it for some reason.

Sokka said nothing - only stared hard at the fish roasting in the fire. Personally, he didn't know what to think of all this. He was still struggling just to grasp the whole situation, and his own worries were focused on Katara, above everything else. In the very delicate, turbulent state she was in, he feared she was losing more and more of her ability to see things clearly.

He'd have to try to do it for her, then. But there were so many factors, and so many doubts. It was hard to keep it all straight long enough to get his bearings.

Sokka sighed, and began pulling the roasted fish off the spit, passing them around to the others on small plates.

"Well - uh." Sokka's loud stammering shattered the silence rather abruptly. He tried again not to sound rude or distant, but everything about him came across as awkward and unfriendly, and he was thoroughly aware of it. "Thanks for sharing that story, there... little... guy. Sorry about your, um. Aunt. Person."

Yonten raised his eyebrows slightly at Sokka.

Sokka dug into his fish quickly, growing annoyed again at his own uneasiness. He could feel Katara watching him again, and he wanted to be able to look back at her, to tell her what was on his mind, to have a good, honest conversation and just _relax_ for once. But he couldn't. He felt distant from her, and he hated it. But he couldn't let his guard down; the whole situation was too strange for that.

If only Suki or Toph were there. They'd find a way to make everything a little bit more normal. Or - even better! - if only this odd Airbender was actually _Aang_, instead of the suspicious impostor he was. Sokka suddenly wished that more than anything in the world. But, of course, he knew it was futile even to think such things.

"So tell us more about the Air Nomads," Sokka suddenly changed the subject, devouring his fish with a vengeance. "How many of you are there?"

Yonten didn't answer for a few moments, and Sokka wondered why he hesitated.

"Twenty," he finally replied, his voice soft - almost inaudible. He stared stiffly at the untouched fish on his plate.

"So few," Katara muttered sadly.

"Well," Sokka couldn't help but interject. "Considering that the count's been at _one _for about eight years now, I'd say that twenty's quite an improvement."

Katara smiled a little at him. "You're right, Sokka. I guess - well, I guess we'd all like there to be more. But it's still amazing to find out that there are any others at all!"

"There were eight who originally escaped on the day of Sozin's attack," Yonten went on, setting his plate on the ground without taking so much as a single bite out of the fish. "Only four of them are still living."

"Wait - they were actually _there_?" Katara exclaimed.

"They must be pretty old, huh?" Sokka, again, found he couldn't keep the skeptical edge out of his voice, though he really had no reason at the moment to doubt Yonten's words.

Yonten blinked. "Um... Yes. Very."

"They're probably about as old as Bumi, Sokka," Katara put in, and she sounded ever so slightly defensive, no doubt sensing Sokka's cynicism.

Sokka shrugged, conceding. "Yeah, well. Bumi's pretty stinkin' old. You gonna eat that fish, Yonten?"

"... I'm a vegetarian," the Airbender murmured, blunt and embarrassed, flushing faintly.

"Oh. Right." Sokka shook his head sharply, a strange quiver tickling the bottom of his spine. In that single instant, he felt the wind knocked out of him by the real, crushing weight of all the years that Aang had been gone. How many meals had he eaten with Aang, way back when? Too many to count! How in the world could it have slipped his mind that Air Nomads were vegetarians? Had Aang really been missing for so long now that Sokka was forgetting even basic details about his _diet_?

A quick glance at Katara's face told Sokka that the vegetarian-thing had completely slipped her mind as well. She'd paused with a bite of fish halfway to her mouth, the blood draining from her face. It must have hit her even harder, Sokka thought. He couldn't imagine.

Yonten glanced uncomfortably at both of them, unable to fathom the nature of their mortification, and handed his plate carefully to Sokka. "Thank you, though," he said. "It's all right. I'm not really that hungry, anyway."

Katara coughed, loudly and suddenly, chewing her fish with fierce resolve and looking desperate to change the subject.

"Ahem," she said. "So, uh - so where have the Airbenders been hiding all these years? If you don't mind my asking."

Both Sokka and Yonten jumped slightly, startled by the question. Katara didn't look either of them in the eye - focusing her gaze on her plate instead, as she shoveled down the food. Sokka frowned, wondering what exactly was going through her head. Did she have a reason for asking, or was she simply making careless chitchat? He too was very curious to know the Airbenders' hiding place, of course - but something told him that they would hardly be willing to hand out their address and contact information to anyone who asked.

As Sokka expected, Yonten faltered for quite a while before replying, and he seemed a bit ruffled.

"Well," the Airbender finally muttered. "I - I really don't think I should say. Though, you'd almost certainly never find it, even if I told you. I doubt you'd even believe it."

Sokka snorted - he couldn't help it. "You'd be surprised, little guy," he scoffed. "We've seen some pretty weird stuff in our time."

Katara was strangely quiet for a few moments, glancing between the two of them. At last, she sighed.

"Well. That's all right, Yonten," she said, sounding a bit disappointed. "I understand why you'd want to keep it as secret as possible. You and the other Airbenders have been through so much pain and tragedy... It must have been hard for you to even leave. I bet you'll be glad to go back, once this is all over, huh?"

"Hm." The Airbender merely grunted in response. For a brief instant, Sokka imagined that he detected a strange hint of agitation - or maybe regret? - in Yonten's voice, in his lack of words. Perhaps it was merely Sokka's own mistrust interpreting Yonten's actions. Even still, though, Sokka's muscles tensed in almost subconscious defensiveness.

There was another rather unpleasant pause, and then Katara went on in a more lighthearted tone. "You know," she said, "about six years ago, Aang found a whole herd of flying bison who'd survived the attack. Everyone thought that Appa over there was the last one. It was so amazing to find them - but we never imagined that there were other Airbenders who managed to survive too. Aang's going to be so excited to meet you all!"

Something deep in Sokka's gut churned violently, and he grimaced. There she went, talking as if Aang were already saved - as if he was just off on a stroll through the clouds, and would be back any second now.

"Oh!" Yonten choked suddenly, taken aback. "No! Avatar Aang must never meet the others."

Utter silence.

If the conversation had been awkward and intense before then, it was many leagues beyond uncomfortable now. Yonten's small bomb of a statement instantly destroyed whatever little ease there was left. Sokka stared at him in surprise and bewilderment. Katara's face froze. And Yonten looked excruciatingly discomfited, as if he'd been hoping to avoid this subject forever. His eyes refused to meet theirs.

"But - what? Why not?" Katara asked, furrowing her brow. "He's one of you. I mean - you're his people. What's the problem?"

Yonten's eyes shifted awkwardly, drifting out toward the rolling ocean. His face flushed, and he folded his tattooed hands uneasily in his lap.

"Uh," the Airbender murmured, "well... he... um... he would not be... welcome."

"_What_?" Katara exclaimed, much louder now, more shocked than anything else. "What do you mean he wouldn't be welcome?"

Yonten's face turned an even more vibrant shade of red, and he dropped his eyes to stare at his feet. "I don't mean to upset you, Katara," he said quickly. "And I mean no disrespect to Avatar Aang. I'm sure he was a great man - "

"_Is_," Katara interrupted, her voice a slicing razor. "He _is _great. He's a _hero_."

Sokka flinched. He could almost feel her teeth grinding. This wasn't going to be good.

"Yes, of course, I - I meant that," Yonten corrected himself quickly, quietly - stuttering nervously, and with good reason. Even he knew by now that Katara's fury was something to be avoided at all costs. "But... it's just that - the other Air Nomads do not, um... well, let's just say... they do not remember the Avatar with a great deal of... good... feelings."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Katara snarled.

"Katara," Sokka intervened, slowly and very, _very _cautiously. He was far from pleased himself, but at the moment, keeping her calm and maintaining some semblance of peace seemed most important. "Don't get so upset."

Katara was boiling. "Don't tell me not to get upset! It's _ridiculous_!"

"Well, it's... it's not _completely _ridiculous," Sokka ventured reluctantly. "I mean, depending on how you look at it." He couldn't believe he was actually coming to the Airbender's defense, even if it _was_ only for the sake of keeping Katara from losing it.

"What!" Katara cried. "Sokka! How could you say that?"

"Just think about it for a second," he tried to reason with her, looking her squarely and soberly in the eye. "A very small group of survivors whose entire race was pretty much wiped out in a single day - a day that a few of them can actually still remember - who've had to live in hiding, who knows where, for a hundred years, cut off from the whole world. Can't be nomads like they used to, too afraid even to _fly _like normal. All because Firelord Sozin was after Aang. Except Aang wasn't there."

"But it wasn't Aang's fault!" Katara shouted, furious.

"I know it wasn't," Sokka replied calmly, trying hard to avoid aggravating her even more. "I never said they were _right_. I'm just saying, if you look at it from their perspective - "

"It's not fair to blame him for it!" she cried.

"Yes, _I know_, Katara. That's not what I'm - "

"Well, what _are _you trying to say, Sokka?"

"I'm sorry, Katara," Yonten spoke up, and there was an unusually bitter edge to his voice - small and hardly perceptible, but Sokka noticed it. "I didn't mean to make you angry. But Sokka is right. The Avatar should have been there to protect us on that day, and he wasn't. It isn't that we do not... appreciate him, for the great being that he is. Nor do we harbor any hatred for his mistakes, of course. But, after Avatar Aang abandoned us, I just think it wouldn't be wise for - "

"_He didn't abandon anyone_!" Katara roared, flushing and quivering with rage. "He didn't _mean _to disappear! Aang would _never _do that!"

Clenching her fists tightly, Katara rose to her feet and stormed a few paces away, curling into a raging knot on the ground, her back to them, her entire body shaking. A weighty, uncomfortable silence fell upon them all, and the tension was so palpable that Sokka thought he could almost taste it - a sour dryness in the back of his throat. He suspected that the word "abandoned" might have hit just a little too close to home for his sister. And now, just as he feared, the cracks in her brittle shield of false contentment were showing.

No one said a word for a very long time. The fire snapped. The waves whispered. Sokka began whistling uneasily to himself.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Yonten broke the silence finally, and again his voice was strangely sharp - almost resentful, Sokka thought. "It would be almost impossible to find the other Air Nomads anyway, even if they would be willing to welcome us back."

"You keep saying that," Sokka said, frowning sternly at Yonten. He wasn't going to stand for this cryptic nonsense anymore. "That it would be hard to find them. Well, why is that? Where _are_ they? Your crazy 'aunt' found the place, didn't she?"

"No - yes - well, sort of," Yonten stammered. "Like I said earlier, it was more like she was - "

"Yeah. She was _found_. Right."

"And that was just a fluke, anyway."

"Well, still," Sokka scowled impatiently. "It doesn't seem like it would be that hard to find the place, if you just knew where to look. And... I mean, you lived with them. You grew up there. So don't _you _know where to look?"

Yonten's gray eyes studied Sokka carefully for a few quiet moments, and swells of deep sorrow lurked behind them.

"Like I said," he muttered, "you probably wouldn't believe me if I explained it. But just take my word for it: trying to find the Air Nomads would be like... like trying to find one specific leaf in a whole forest. Even for me."

Sokka furrowed his brow in confusion. "Then," he asked slowly, "how are you going to get back home, when this is all over?"

There was another long, burdened silence. Katara turned slightly around, glancing over her shoulder at the Airbender expectantly, frowning. Yonten didn't reply, though; merely heaved a deep, aching sigh.

"You're... not, are you?" Sokka finally asked, arching an eyebrow at him in quiet surprise.

The small Airbender closed his eyes tightly, struggling against the pain, and shook his head.

"I'm doing what I have to do," he said resolutely, though his voice quivered a bit. "I was given a task, and I will finish it. Whatever happens to me - I mean... My own personal feelings are not important. This is something that's bigger than all of us."

The ocean murmured solemnly, and Sokka scrutinized the strange Airbender with no small amount of astonishment. Katara, too, seemed rather shocked, staring intently at Yonten. Yonten himself curled into a tight little ball and leaned his head on his knees, turning his face away from both of them.

_So_ - Sokka thought. _No going home. That's... unexpected._

Suddenly those small traces of smothered bitterness in Yonten's voice made a whole lot more sense. He'd left his family, friends, the small community of survivors he'd grown up with, the only people he'd ever known - his "aunt," who he'd never see again, who might have been dying when he left - all to journey alone into the dangerous world to deliver a mysterious message to a bunch of strangers.

No wonder the pipsqueak had insisted on going with them to the North Pole: he didn't have anything else to do, or anywhere else to go. Sokka had to admit - and he really hated even thinking it - but... he was rather... impressed. And even a little sad. He still didn't want to like the guy. He _really _didn't want to like him. But - the pipsqueak _did _have guts; Sokka had to give him that.

Katara finally spoke softly, staring hard at her own knees, voicing some of Sokka's own thoughts aloud.

"So you left your home, forever, to come help me save Aang?" She furrowed her brow in bewilderment. "And you don't even _like _Aang?"

"I never said I didn't like him," Yonten murmured quickly, awkwardly. "I've never met him. All I said was that the Air Nomads wouldn't _welcome _him. But even they respect him, and so do I. And anyway, as I said, I was given this task. It wasn't my choice, and it wasn't my place to refuse. It's beyond me - beyond all of us. Even you, Katara. Though you are certainly at the heart of it."

He looked up at her then, eyes gleaming earnestly. "And I _want _to help you. I do. I'm glad to be here, to help you. You and Tenzin I respect most of all, now that I've met you, and I've seen the pain you've both been suffering. If I can somehow... _do _something... I don't know. Anything - if things somehow change for the better because I came here, then... Then I think it will be worth it."

They were all three silent once again. No one knew quite what to say, after that. Sokka's stomach churned with a disagreeable bit of guilt, as well as some mild repulsion at the idea of - of, what? - of actually being able, maybe, to _tolerate _this impostor Airbender? Of actually feeling a little bad that he still couldn't help thinking of him as an impostor, even if he could manage to tolerate him? Of actually, sort of, almost, feeling a bit sorry for the little guy, even though he still resisted the idea of trusting him or even being nice to him?

Sokka still felt bitter that this stranger had barged into their lives and uprooted everything, inspired Katara to go flying off into unnecessary danger for a vague, distant hope. He still resented that Yonten was intruding into their private space, where he wasn't invited or welcome. But - the fact that the guy had given up everything, his whole life, forever, to come barging into theirs...

It just complicated things in ways that Sokka wasn't at all comfortable with. He wondered what Katara thought about this whole thing.

He also felt a little bad now about trying to leave Yonten behind in the Fire Nation, and about wanting to knock him out of the saddle earlier. But then he felt irritated that he felt bad. So he just looked away, digging his boots into the sand and grumbling quietly to himself, trying to steer his thoughts in a less confusing direction.

"Anyway," Yonten finally spoke again, breaking the grim silence with a feeble attempt at a more lighthearted tone, "if I hadn't left, I would have never gotten to ride on a flying bison. And now I have. So... that's something."

Sokka didn't reply, and neither did Katara - though Sokka saw her try to smile faintly at the Airbender. But it wasn't a happy smile; Sokka thought it was probably more just an effort to ease her own inner discomfort a bit. He wouldn't have minded a little peace of mind, himself.


	18. Voices in the Dark

_Yet another new installment! The next couple of chapters ought to be coming pretty fast, too. I've basically already written most of them, but I had to break them up because the chapters were getting too long..._

_Anyway, this was a fun one to write! Though poor, poor Zuko just breaks my heart. *goes to hug Zuko plushie*_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own no Avatar. Blah blah blah. You know how it goes. (I don't actually own a Zuko plushie, either. Though I really, REALLY wish I did! That would be the best thing EVER!)_

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><p><strong>Voices in the Dark<strong>

Tenzin lay wide awake in his bed, listening to the wind that wailed outside of his window. His blue eyes gazed straight upward, bright and unblinking, following the intricate patterns of the ceiling tiles above him. But in his mind he saw other things, and he smiled to himself.

Early that morning, his mother and Uncle Sokka had left with Yonten. She had come to wake him up before sunrise, to tell him good-bye. He almost never awoke before the sun did, and something about the stillness before the day's beginning, and the unnaturalness of being up to see that hour, felt surreal and thrilling. His mother had been wearing a deep blue cloak, her long hair tied back, and he thought she looked dressed for a great adventure. Having heard the exciting tales of her youth many times, his little heart pounded with exhilaration to see her like that; he knew she was off to do amazing things, just like in the old stories. He only wished that he could have gone with her, but she'd made it quite clear that he had to stay home with Zuko.

Even now, as he remembered the awakening, he could feel her familiar arms squeezing him tightly again.

_Be good for Zuko and Aunt Suki, okay? _she'd told him. _And please be safe._

Same old things she always said. Tenzin knew the drill, and he'd been far too excited and distracted to heed her admonitions anyway.

_When are you bringing daddy back?_ he'd asked her eagerly, heart pounding just at the thought.

_We'll be back in three or four weeks_, she'd replied, beaming at him and tweaking his nose fondly. She seemed so happy – she'd been happy for days, happier than he remembered ever seeing her before. It made him happy, too. It fortified his own certainty that all would soon be right, that everything would soon be perfect: the way it was always meant to be. Endless fun and joy, forever, as soon as she came back home. As soon as she brought Avatar Aang back home.

_How many days?_ he'd urged her, insistent on knowing specifics. He wanted to count the time down.

She'd smiled gently. _Well, I don't know exactly, sweetheart_.

_Can't you guess, Momma? Please?_

She'd laughed a little bit, and ruffled his short black hair. _Well,_ she said at last, _you know when Winter Solstice is, right? How many weeks?_

He'd counted his fingers for a moment.

_Uhh... ten? _He'd really had no idea. Ten was just his favorite number.

She'd made a face at him. _Not even close!_

_Two? _he'd tried again.

_Nope! It's actually in four w -_

_Four weeks! Yeah! That's what I was going to say. _How she always remembered when things like holidays and birthdays happened, Tenzin could never fathom. He could only assume that it was some magical skill that came with being grown up.

Her eyes had gleamed at him. _Right! You're so smart, sweetie. __Wanna guess how many days that is?_

_I don't know. A lot?_

_No, not very many. Just twenty-eight._

_Twenty-eight! Are you crazy? That _is_ a lot! It's practically forever!_

_ It'll go by quicker than you think_. She'd laughed again at his histrionics. _You keep count of the days while I'm gone, okay? Zuko and Aunt Suki can help you count. When you get to twenty-eight, Winter Solstice will be here. And me and Uncle Sokka will be back then – maybe even before then. Okay?_

He'd taken a deep breath, smiling with trepidation, almost afraid of how good it all would be.

_With daddy too? _he'd whispered hopefully, hesitantly.

She'd just breathed for a moment as well, her eyes glistening dimly in the early morning grayness that spilled through the window. With a slow, solemn nod, she'd gathered him warmly into her arms again, kissing him on the cheek and brushing her fingers through his hair.

_Yes, Tenzin._ She'd whispered too, as if they were sharing a beautiful secret. _We'll be back with your daddy by the Solstice. I promise._

Winter Solstice. That was the day. She'd be back, with Uncle Sokka and Yonten … and with _him_.

Tenzin just hoped he wouldn't die of anticipation before then.

As it was, he was already finding it impossible to sleep. Rolling over in his bed, he squinted through the dim moonlight at the far wall of his room, where he'd hung up a calendar that Aunt Suki had helped him make earlier that afternoon. There was a square for each day, with a number written on it. All except for the last day - _the_ day - on which he'd drawn three stick-figures: himself (bending an impressive scribbly tornado); his mother (happy), distinguished by her hair loopies, of course; and a tall man whose bald, round head was marked with a slightly crooked arrow (and who was very impressed by his scribbly tornado).

The first day on the calendar, which Aunt Suki had marked "28," had been crossed off just before his bedtime.

"Twenty-seven," he whispered to himself in the dark, grinning from ear to ear. One day down – a little less than forever to go.

Only one thing really troubled him at the moment: even though his mother was so happy, and everything was turning out so good, Tenzin could tell that Zuko wasn't happy at all, and he couldn't figure out why. When Yonten had first showed up, Zuko had gotten really mad. But now – especially now that his mother had left with Uncle Sokka, Zuko seemed mostly sad instead of angry. And Tenzin just couldn't figure it out.

Maybe he was sad that she was gone?

But she wouldn't be gone forever. Zuko knew that she was coming back by the Solstice, or he ought to know. Tenzin had even told him so earlier that day, to try to cheer him up. But the news had only seemed to make him sadder, which only bewildered Tenzin more.

What reason was there to be sad? Everything felt so perfect now, Tenzin couldn't even conceive of anything that could possibly be so upsetting to Zuko. But he certainly didn't like it that Zuko was unhappy; he wanted Zuko to share in his own happiness, and his mother's. He wanted Zuko to count down the days with him, and look forward to Winter Solstice as much as he was. He wanted Zuko to understand, and be part of it all. Why didn't Zuko understand? After all, Zuko was one of the family too, wasn't he? Just like Uncle Sokka, Aunt Suki and Auntie Toph, and Ursa and Uncle Iroh, and Grandpa Hakoda. Shouldn't they all experience the same joy and excitement, together? Wasn't that how it was supposed to be?

Tenzin sighed heavily. It just didn't make sense. Why couldn't Zuko just _stop _being sad?

Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe tomorrow he could show Zuko his calendar, and Zuko could cross the days off with him. Maybe that would make him feel better.

Or maybe when Uncle Iroh and Ursa came home, then Zuko would be happy again. Tenzin couldn't wait to see Ursa - he was practically bursting to tell her about everything that had happened, and about everything that was going to happen. He was going to tell her all the stories he knew about Avatar Aang, from beginning to end, until she was just as excited as he was. And then, together, perhaps they could act out the stories themselves! And maybe when his mother and Uncle Sokka came home with Avatar Aang, he and Ursa could show everyone their performance. And Avatar Aang would be really impressed and would ask them to do it again once they'd finished, because it was so good.

Tenzin himself would play Avatar Aang's part in the stories, naturally. Aunt Suki would have to help him draw an arrow on his head (and make sure it wasn't crooked - it had to be exactly right). He wondered if his mother would be mad if he shaved off all his hair...

Suddenly -

- Something moved.

The boy was instantly jolted from his musings. He saw something shift in the shadows by his window – or at least he thought he did– and there was a small but distinct rustling sound outside. His little heart jumped, and for a few moments he just stared at the window, holding his breath.

But there was nothing but the stars, piercing in little spurts through the gauzy layer of clouds, and the vague black outline of the quivering tree that grew just below his windowsill.

Yet, even still, his stomach crunched with the eerie feeling of being watched. And his heart thudded with increasing certainty that something awful was about to happen to him.

After a few intense moments of watching and waiting, as soon as he felt brave enough to risk movement, the little Airbender sprang lightly out of his bed, scuttling breezily across the bedroom to the door. Standing on tiptoes, he reached the doorknob and pulled the big door open a small crack, grunting with the effort. A chilly draft from the hallway brushed across his face, and he peered this way and that in the flickering torchlight.

"Tenzin, what are you doing up?" His Aunt Suki emerged from the darkness nearby, just where he knew she would be. She'd promised him earlier that she would keep watch outside his door all night, to make sure he was extra safe. "It's way past your bedtime, sweetie. Go back to bed."

The little boy released a sigh of relief at the comforting sight of his aunt. "I just wanted to make sure you were still here," he whispered. "I thought I heard a noise."

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of noise?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Could you come check, though?"

Suki didn't answer, except for a quick, silent nod. As she slipped through the open door, she placed a hand protectively on his shoulder and brought him near to herself, halfway beside and halfway behind her. With her other hand she drew out one of her razor-sharp fans. The metallic _shi-i-ing_ that reverberated through the room as the fan slid open sent a small shiver down Tenzin's spine.

"Where did you hear the noise?" she asked him, in an almost inaudible hush.

"It was sort of by the window," he replied, also speaking in a cautious hush, and feeling horribly sure that something dangerous was lurking around there. "I thought I saw something too."

Slowly, cautiously, Suki approached the window, keeping Tenzin close by her side, always with one hand on his shoulder – wary of someone sneaking up on him while she was distracted at the window. That was just the sort of thing Azula would try; but Suki had enough experience with Azula to anticipate her tricks. Darting a careful eye over her shoulder every few seconds, Suki unlatched the window and took a look outside.

The cool night breeze drifted tranquilly into the room, and the tree below the window swayed gently in the wind. All was silent, save for the ambience of crickets chirping and frogs croaking in the pond down below. Suki scanned the grounds and the walls quickly, carefully – absorbing every detail in an instant. Nothing there. She closed the window again, latching it firmly shut, and surveyed the rest of the room, still keeping Tenzin in her protective grasp.

Having seen that there was nothing at the window, Tenzin was beginning to calm down, and was even feeling a little silly now.

"I guess it was probably nothing, Aunt Suki," he whispered. "Maybe it was just the wind."

"Sh," Suki hissed, with a tense, dogged look – the look of someone who'd been hunted for a long time. "You can't count on it being just the wind, Tenzin."

Tenzin gulped.

But a few minutes later, Suki had finished her examination of the room. All was clear. She checked outside the window once again, yet still there was no sign of any danger. At last, she allowed herself to breathe, and relaxed her hold on Tenzin.

"Looks like there's nothing to worry about this time, sweetie," she sighed. "I guess it _was _just the wind."

"Are you sure?" he asked nervously. He'd begun to doubt now, after witnessing her extreme caution.

She smiled reassuringly at him, and collapsed her weapon. "Trust me, if there was any danger around here, I would know it," she said. "Sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to be totally sure you were safe. You can never be too careful, you know."

Tenzin still felt rather uncertain. But he trusted his aunt, and knew what a great warrior she was. And if she said it was safe, then it had to be safe.

"Okay, time to get back to bed," she urged him, smacking him lightly on the behind with her folded-up fan. "Go on – in you go!"

The little Airbender hastily crawled into bed again, slipping under the covers and grinning sheepishly up at her, while she tucked him in and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Aunt Suki," he said. "will you stay in here for a little while, to make sure everything's safe?"

She smiled at him fondly, and sat down beside him on the bed. "Of course," she said. "I'll stay till you fall asleep, okay? But don't be afraid. There's nothing to worry about. Everything's under control."

He hesitated for a moment, then asked in a careful, rather fearful hush: "What are you watching out for, Aunt Suki? Do you think someone's coming to get me?"

She paused, mentally balancing how much of the truth he ought to know, versus how much it was going to scare him. At last, she said, "Well, Tenzin. I don't think anyone's after _you _right now. But I want to make extra sure you're safe, even still. Don't be afraid, though – I promise you'll be safe, as long as I'm around."

"What about Zuko?" Tenzin whispered anxiously. "Do you think anyone's after _him_?"

She smiled gently at him, and squeezed his hand. "Zuko will be fine," she assured him. "He can take pretty good care of himself, and he's got guards watching him too, just in case."

Tenzin was silent for a few moments, then turned his bright-eyed gaze upon his aunt with piercing earnestness and concern. "Aunt Suki," he whispered again. "Why isn't Zuko happy? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"Oh – um," she stammered, a bit surprised by the sudden question. "No – no, Tenzin. You haven't done anything wrong. Zuko's just… he's, uh, got a lot on his mind."

"Like what?"

She stumbled, unsure what to say. He studied her face carefully, watching her eyes vacillate between him and the floor.

"Uh," she said, running her fingers awkwardly through her auburn hair, "um… well – "

"Is he mad at Momma?" Tenzin asked, furrowing his brow somberly.

"Uh, no," Suki replied quickly, shaking her head and flushing a bit. "No, he's not really… _mad_ at anyone – "

"Is he worried she's not coming back? Because I told him what she said about the Solstice. I could show him the calendar we made to prove it. D'you think that would work?"

Suki's eyes shifted uncomfortably for a moment; she hesitated, worried that she might say something wrong, and definitely feeling a bit unqualified to handle his questions.

"Well, uh," she stammered, "See, Tenzin - Zuko's - I mean, I think Zuko knows all about the Solstice and everything. That's - it's not really that he thinks she's not... coming back..."

Suki swallowed hard. Tenzin's eyes were probing her, wide and expectant and innocent.

"I mean - I think he's definitely a little worried about her," she corrected herself gingerly, not wanting to worry _him _too much. "And he's also, um - he's also a little sad because... your mom is... because Avatar Aang is..." She found she couldn't finish any of the sentences that she began. How did one explain such a complicated emotional situation to a five-year old?

Tenzin frowned at his bedsheets, puzzled. "Wait - so is he sad because Avatar Aang is coming back?" he asked. "But I thought Zuko and Avatar Aang were friends?"

"Oh, they were," Suki nodded hastily. "They were very good friends."

"Then why isn't Zuko happy about him coming back?" Tenzin was looking increasingly perplexed. "Shouldn't he be glad that his friend is coming home, after all this time?"

Suki sighed. "Well, Tenzin - I'm sure he... would... be. But it's - it's a little complicated, unfortunately - "

Tenzin's eyes suddenly widened, as if he'd had a small revelation. "Does - " he began quietly, "does Zuko think that we won't love him anymore when Avatar Aang comes back?"

Suki could only gape at the boy for a second, astonished by how perceptive he was. "... I, uh, " she stuttered, blinking. "Uh - um - well, Tenzin... yeah. Yeah, I think that's a big part of it."

Tenzin's brow knotted: he looked a bit irked. "But that's silly! Why would he think that?"

"It's..." Suki could only sigh again and shrug. "Like I said before, it's... It's a little complicated."

"But why?" Tenzin demanded, frowning. "I just don't get it. It doesn't seem that hard. It's easy to love more than one person at a time. And he's a grown-up! He should know that. He shouldn't be so worried. Sheesh! - I mean, really!"

She laughed, despite herself. He was so _serious_. Not to mention completely dead-on accurate, about everything. Shaking her head with amazement, Suki smiled softly at her baffled nephew._  
><em>

"You know what, Tenzin? I think you're absolutely right," she said. "You're very wise."

That small compliment made the little Airbender instantly glow with pleasure. "I am?"

"Oh, definitely," she grinned. "Y'know, you're a lot like Avatar Aang. He was very wise, too."

If it was possible, Tenzin somehow now glowed even more. "_Really_?" he cried.

She laughed at him again, ruffling his hair, and nodded.

"Do you think he'll like me, Aunt Suki?" Tenzin asked, blue eyes glimmering hopefully. A small trace of shy anxiety passed across his face, and he hugged his knees tightly.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "How could he _not_ like you? I'm sure he'll love you the second he meets you."

"You think so?"

"No doubt about it."

The boy looked as if he was on the brink of exploding with joy and excitement. He bounced in his bed and allowed a small squeal to escape him. "I can't wait!" he declared. Then, a moment later, he all at once became very serious again, and looked her earnestly in the eye. "Aunt Suki, do you think I should tell Zuko that we still love him no matter what? I mean, I don't want him to be sad, and he might feel better if I told him. D'you think that would help?"

Suki paused, and smiled gently at him again. "I think he'd appreciate that a lot, Tenzin," she said. "But it'll have to wait till tomorrow. It's time for bed. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was time for bed a long time ago. Come on - the sooner you get to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here."

* * *

><p>Zuko's mind stumbled blindly, lost somewhere in the dark interim between wakefulness, dream and memory. He fitfully rolled over in his bed, teeth grinding subconsciously. Something in him knew that he wasn't really asleep; but as far as his feverish thoughts were concerned, he was submerged in a deep dream.<p>

She was gone.

She was gone.

He'd let her go. Why hadn't he done something? He should have stopped her. He should have -

Zuko's breaths came quick and shallow. His stomach boiled and his heart flamed. What was it? Fear? Rage? Grief? - some sort of potent mix of all of them? He didn't know which he felt most strongly at the moment. But there was one word that would not stop throbbing in his head: one word that had been haunting him, chasing him, hammering at him relentlessly since the moment he'd stood there and watched her leave.

_Gone._

His fists clutched ferociously at the bed sheets.

She'd tried to leave without saying good-bye. That was what had hurt the most. He'd known she was leaving, of course. He'd known from the first moment Yonten had spoken Aang's name. Even before then, Zuko had known - for the past few years, he'd known full well that if there was ever, _ever_ even the slightest chance that she could bring Aang back, she would leave. Without a second thought; without even looking back.

Yet even still, he'd hoped...

But that didn't matter now, did it? She was gone.

She'd left with Sokka and Yonten early that morning, before sunrise. She hadn't come to say good-bye to him. The only reason she'd not managed to slip away silently was that Zuko hadn't slept all night, and he'd already been waiting in the courtyard with Appa when she showed up.

_So. This is it, huh? _He'd scowled at her in the dark.

She'd jumped at the sound of his voice. _Zuko!_

_You're just gonna leave. Just like that. No good-bye, nothing?_

Even in the heavy early morning darkness, he could tell that she was mortified. Her fists clenched - channeling the shame into defensiveness.

_Don't try to stop me, Zuko_, she whispered.

_I'm not,_ he said softly, stepping towards her.

Over Katara's shoulder, Zuko saw Sokka come into the courtyard, carrying some packs of supplies to load onto Appa's saddle. But the instant that he spotted the two of them talking, he slowly backed away. Yonten came next, but Sokka grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Zuko appreciated the privacy.

Katara seemed slightly surprised that Zuko wasn't going to attempt to stop her. But she turned away, closing her eyes. _I'm sorry, Zuko_, she said quietly. _I didn't want to leave like this, but - I thought... It just seemed like... I thought it would be easier this way._

_Easier__? _He scoffed bitterly. _You mean you were afraid, right? Afraid I'd try to talk you out of it._

She glowered at the ground.

He bit his lip, fighting himself. His frustration urged him to scream some sense into her. His increasing panic and fear insisted he should do whatever it took to stop her, or at least stall her until Uncle arrived to talk some even better sense into her. But what really overwhelmed him was sorrow - pure, simple, heart-shattering pain.

_I'm not going to talk you out of it,_ he whispered hoarsely, each word heavy with despair. _But I just want to know one thing. Why?_

She looked at him then, perplexed. _Why? What do you mean, _why_?_

_Why can't you let this go, Katara? __Why can't you be happy here with me?_

Remorse and guilt stirred behind her eyes as she gazed at him - feeling his pain along with him - the pain she knew she had caused him. Yet at the same time, she set her jaw in a firm rebuke.

_That's not fair and you know it, Zuko_, she said softly, sternly. _This is exactly why I was afraid to say good-bye to you. You can't guilt me into staying here by making it seem like this is about you and me. It has nothing to do with you - this is about Aang. About giving him a second chance to live. He was one of your best friends, Zuko! How can you not want that for him?_

Zuko didn't reply. A violent bolt of shame jolted into his heart. He turned his face away, unable to withstand her probing gaze.

It was a battle that had been growing increasingly intense within him for a long time: how he felt about Aang returning. He missed Aang, too - he _wished_ Aang could live again, just like all of them did - it grieved him to watch Aang's son grow up without a father, to know that Aang was missing precious years that could never be recovered. He simply hated it, everything about the situation... Because despite himself, despite the fact that he wanted Aang to be alive, Zuko couldn't help but also loathe the idea of Aang coming back.

Because Aang had broken Katara - abandoned her and ruined her. He hadn't meant to do it, of course; but he'd done it, all the same.

Because Aang... Aang had _everything_: everything that Zuko wanted and could never have. Except Aang hadn't earned it; he just _got _it, without trying. He'd always been that way. Lucky. Zuko had grown to resent that as well; perhaps he always had, a little, somewhere deep down.

And all of that only made Zuko hate himself. He hated himself because Aang had been one of his closest friends - maybe his best friend - and he knew Aang would never have betrayed him or wished him ill. Zuko hated himself because, despite having genuine wishes to the contrary, he just couldn't, couldn't, _couldn't_ help but hope a little bit that maybe Aang would never come back. And that awful, selfish, treacherous hope lurked within Zuko like a poison. It made him sick, knowing it was there, but it wouldn't leave him alone.

His face burned. His own disgust at himself manifested as anger, and the only escape was to evade the subject.

_What if you can't save him, Katara? _he demanded, his voice becoming sharp and fierce rather against his will. _Have you even thought about that? What if you fail? What if you don't come back? Where will that leave Tenzin? He'll be all alone!_

That made her pause for a very long time, wavering in her conviction. It was the one point he knew she couldn't argue against - the one that shook her very strongest foundations.

But she wouldn't give in. She drew in her breath, and looked him squarely in the eye. _I _will _save him, Zuko.__ I have to._

It was no use. He knew that look well - the way her eyes burned when she attached herself to a hope and refused to be shaken. He'd seen it many times, and knew that she was beyond reasoning now. Zuko's will faltered, and he felt himself surrendering, resigning to this fate. With a burdened sigh, he carefully reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

_You could stay here with me,_ he offered, desperate and hopeless, grasping for anything to make her stay, but already knowing what her answer would be. _You, me, Tenzin and Ursa - we could be a family, you know._

He felt her soften at his touch; her blue eyes sadly beseeched him to understand. _I'm sorry, Zuko_, she whispered. _I can't. You already know I can't._

Against his better judgment, Zuko leaned in to kiss her - naively hoping, perhaps, to change her mind, make her realize what she was leaving behind. But Katara tilted away from him.

_Zuko, don't!_ she commanded him sternly, glaring at him in a way that made him feel like a disobedient child.

He gawked stupidly at her for a moment, and then dropped his eyes to the ground. She sighed with bitter weariness.

_It's time for me to go now,_ she said._ We'll be back before the Solstice. Keep Tenzin safe till I get back._

They hadn't said another word to each other. She'd called for Sokka and Yonten, and Zuko just stood by, watching as they loaded up Appa's saddle in silence. He only stood, watching, doing nothing, as the three of them climbed onto the bison's back. As Sokka flicked the reins with the usual "Yip yip!" As Katara glanced regretfully back at him, just for an instant, and then disappeared into the sky.

Gone.

He'd spent the rest of the day in a daze. It didn't seem real. How could she be gone? How could she leave them behind like this?

What if that was the last time he'd ever see her? Why hadn't he said something else, done something more? Why had he just stood there and watched her go?

Zuko groaned in his sleep and turned violently over again. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his teeth. But his mind had convinced itself now that it was asleep, and so he was unaware of the pain.

"Zuko!"

He twitched, burying his face in the pillow.

He dreamed of a hand on his shoulder, stirring him awake. "Zuko!"

He opened his eyes drowsily, confused and disoriented. He was suddenly eight years old again. It was _that _night again, and his mother was standing over him once more, gently goading him to wake up.

"Mom?" he mumbled, his heart surging with sudden, inexplicable dread.

"Zuko, my love," she whispered urgently. "You must wake up!"

"What? Why?"

"Azula is here," she said. "Hurry! I think your son is in danger!"

His mind was spinning. Reality was re-ordering itself with frantic dizziness.

"My son?" he asked in bewilderment. Suddenly, panic seized his heart. "_Tenzin_!"

Zuko shot straight up in bed, wide awake and panting. Instinctively, his hands shot out and snatched up his broadswords from their customary place by his bedside. His heart thudded against his chest. But all was silent around him, and though his amber eyes scanned the shadows with desperate meticulousness, there was no one in the room except him.

Sighing, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. It had seemed so real. He was so sure...

He should check on Tenzin.

Almost without a sound, the young Fire Lord was on his feet - at the door - slipping into the corridor, dual-wielding his familiar weapons cautiously. The guards outside his chamber instantly stood at attention when they saw him.

"Come with me," he ordered the captain of the guards, in a wary hush. "I need all your men watching my back."

"What's the matter, Fire Lord Zuko?" the captain asked, marching after Zuko down the hall.

"Maybe nothing," Zuko admitted. "I just suddenly got a bad feeling, that's all."

* * *

><p>"Zuko?" Suki rose to her feet when she saw him approach, followed by the guards. Her brow knotted with concern, and her fingers drifted to her fans. She'd posted herself just outside of Tenzin's door once he'd finally fallen asleep, maybe ten minutes earlier, after she'd conducted another thorough search of the room and deemed it to be quite safe. She'd even lodged the windows firmly shut with some furniture, even though they were already bolted closed.<p>

"What's going on?" she asked tentatively.

"Have you checked on Tenzin recently? Has everything been okay?" Zuko spoke so softly she could barely hear him. Something in his eyes told her that he'd been genuinely spooked.

"He's fine," she assured him. "I was in there just a few minutes ago, and everything was clear. I even made sure the windows were extra secure. Why? What happened?"

Zuko shook his head, pressing his fingers into his eyelids. Suki and the guards all watched him closely.

"I don't know," he sighed. "It's probably nothing."

"Zuko." Suki looked him in the eye gravely. "_Nothing _is nothing. Tell me what happened. Did you see something? Hear something? What?"

He felt a little stupid now. How could he admit to her, especially in front of his guards, that he thought he'd seen his mother? The one who'd been missing for sixteen years? _He_ knew that he wasn't insane - at least, he was pretty sure he wasn't - but he didn't relish the thought of giving any of _them _reason to believe he was losing his mind. Especially since his family was not exactly renowned for their mental health.

"I don't know," he mumbled again, awkwardly. "But - I'd feel a lot better if I could see for myself."

Much to Zuko's relief, Suki didn't question him at all. She merely nodded, drawing out her fans, and stepped aside to allow him to pass through the door. As he reached for the doorknob, she kept close beside him, poised and alert. The guards all gathered close behind as well, fists raised defensively.

But something stopped him before he grasped the doorknob. Intuition, perhaps - a sudden hunch. He pulled his hand back in apprehension.

"Zuko?" Suki whispered, bewildered.

Heart pounding, he reached out with just one finger, bringing it near to the doorknob gingerly.

As soon as his fingertip made contact with the metal knob, he jerked his hand away, sucking in his breath through his teeth. It was searing hot. Someone had heated it from inside the room.

"Tenzin!" he bellowed, wild panic seizing him instantly. He kicked, shattering the doors in a burst of fire, and raced into the room, broadswords in hand.

There she was.

Azula - his sister - barely recognizable now, her torn, savage hair spilling into her chaotic eyes.

She was beside the bed, hovering over Tenzin, a small knife glinting in her hand.

Zuko took in this image in less time than it took to blink. In that minute fraction of time, Tenzin sat bolt upright in bed, startled awake by the commotion - Azula's eyes turned and met Zuko's, hitting him like a lightning bolt - the moonlight flashed off the blade in her hand - and Suki inhaled sharply behind him.

Before anyone else moved, Tenzin reacted in rapid, knee-jerk panic. He held his breath, shut his eyes tight and collapsed into a frightened ball, and a sudden large bubble of air burst from him. Azula flew across the room, crashed into the wall and crumpled to the floor. Zuko, Suki, and the guards were all blasted back toward the doors. In the confusion, Suki's back collided with the burning doorknob, and she shrieked in pain.

"GET AWAY!" Zuko roared, recovering in a second, instinctively - thoughtlessly - racing at Azula, fueled by sheer, stupid adrenaline, blades swinging ferociously. But he never hit her. Before he was close enough, Azula kicked a stream of vicious blue fire directly at his face. He went reeling clumsily backwards, just barely dodging the flames, as she nimbly leaped back to her feet.

He lost his balance, fell on his back -

And in the brief, endless moment that he was falling, his heart stopped - expecting to feel her knife in his throat any second.

But a razor-sharp fan whistled through the air above his head, and his guards' fireballs flooded the room with a bloody light. Adrenaline pulsed through him, and time seemed to slow almost to a halt, and he only saw images. The patterned tiles on the ceiling, flashing in the glow of fire. One of his swords falling from his hand. Suki standing over him, swinging her other fan. Tenzin curled in a terrified knot on the ground, covering his ears. Azula's eyes - just her eyes - somewhere amid the chaos.

Then - somehow - she was gone. Vanished. The entire incident had happened in a matter of seconds, and the scorched bedroom was already settling into sizzling silence.

"Get up!" Suki commanded him severely, pulling him to his feet. "She's run off! She's gonna get away!"

Zuko's head was spinning. "Tenzin!"

"Here!" Tenzin cried, running to Zuko and throwing his arms around him, shuddering and sobbing uncontrollably.

For a moment, Zuko forgot everything else. He just squeezed the boy in his arms fiercely, and struggled to breathe normally.

"He's okay," Zuko gasped, heart still pounding. "He's okay. You're okay. It's gonna be okay."

"Should we go after her, Fire Lord?" the captain of the guards asked.

But Zuko didn't reply. He was already rising to his feet - picking up his broadswords once more - heading past the wrecked doors, into the corridor - lightning flashing in his eyes.

"Zuko!" Suki called after him frantically, scooping Tenzin protectively into her arms and watching from the doorway as he marched off down the shadowy hall. "You shouldn't go alone!"

"She won't hurt me," Zuko said, without looking back, his voice dark and brutal. "I'm supposed to be last."

"Follow him," Suki commanded the captain of the guards. "I'll stay here with Tenzin - "

"No!" Zuko bellowed from the hall. He was too far into the darkness to see now, but his voice boomed with stern severity. "Stay with them! They're the ones she'll come after first!"

Suki exhaled anxiously. Zuko's authority outweighed her own, of course, and the guards had to follow his commands. The captain and his men all looked to her worriedly, while their Fire Lord's footsteps faded down the corridor. Tenzin clutched her neck, still quaking and sniffling, staring after Zuko into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Zuko charged into the pitch-black throne room, breathing fire in vicious bursts. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the broadswords tighter.<p>

"Azula!" he thundered. "I know you're in here!"

Thick silence. Zuko swung his arms, flinging fire out through his blades and lighting the torches that lined the walls. The throne room emerged from the shadows, illuminated in flickering fire light. The wall of flames before the throne remained unlit.

Zuko scanned the room, glancing over his shoulder cautiously.

"_Azula_!" he shouted again, inching toward the throne slowly, weapons alert. His heart was pounding, and for a brief instant he doubted himself. He was sure she would have come here - she would have wanted him to follow her here. She had to be here.

"Where are you?" he demanded fiercely, turning back towards the entrance.

He felt a sudden intense heat on his back, and whirled. Before the empty throne, a wall of blue flames roared to life.

Darting behind the nearest column, almost without a sound, he slipped stealthily through the shadows up to the throne's platform, up behind the blue flames. He'd expected she would try to toy with him like this. He slid behind the wall, blades ready, certain he'd find her there. But of course, she was gone.

Her laughter resounded through the chamber.

He marched out onto the platform, towards the throne, and surveyed the room. The orange glow of the torches and the blue light of the wall of flames clashed ominously on every visible surface.

"Come out!" he commanded, leaping to the lower level and turning in a circle, searching the unlit corners of the ceiling. "Show yourself, I dare you!"

"Actually, I think I'll stay out of sight for now." Her voice bounced sardonically off the walls - it was eerily unchanged since he'd last heard it, over five years ago. A chill crawled up his spine.

He kept to the dark places, trying to follow the sound, but the echoes threw off his senses.

"It's much more fun this way," she went on, daring him to find her. "Watching you run around like mad, looking this way and that, not knowing if I'm everywhere, or nowhere, or maybe even right behind you."

Zuko resisted the urge to turn around, more out of pure defiance than sense. He bared his teeth furiously, sliding from shadow to shadow, fists intensely gripping his broadswords.

"_What do you want_, Azula?" he shouted.

"What makes you think I want something, Zuzu?"

He whirled, thinking that a shadow had moved behind him. But her voice rang from the other side of the room now.

"Maybe I just wanted to drop in, pay a visit to my little nephew. Tenzin's his name, right?"

"He's not your nephew." Zuko's eyes drifted back toward the throne, drawn by the sharp blue glow of the flames. "He has nothing to do with you. Leave him alone - he's just an innocent little boy!"

Once again, her laugh seemed to rumble from every corner of the chamber.

"Oh, Zuko!" she chuckled. He could almost see her rolling her eyes at him. "Of course he's not my nephew. You really think I didn't notice that he blasted me to the wall with a miniature hurricane? You're dangerously underestimating me if you think I can't guess who his real father is."

Zuko saw something dart in the shifting light behind the throne. He moved like a phantom through the torchlight, arriving at the foot of the throne in time to once again find her gone. Her voice chuckled from behind him. He knew she was relishing every second of this little game.

"You know," she went on, every syllable she spoke flavored with sadistic amusement, "it's actually rather lucky for me. Since the Avatar is unfortunately unavailable at the moment, at least his son should still suffice for my purposes. Which I guess means that little Tenzin will _really_ be the last Airbender, won't he!"

"Azula," Zuko snarled, no longer attempting to chase her around the room, but merely watching. "If you ever come near him again, I swear I'll - "

"You'll what, dum-dum? What? Kill me?" She scoffed. "I doubt it. And anyway, you seem to care about him quite a lot, even if he's not actually yours. Which actually makes him doubly valuable to me. Let me guess: you cozied up to his mother, didn't you? The Avatar's old girlfriend - that smug little Water Tribe whore? I can't say I'm surprised. You were always so in love with _our _mother... Makes sense you'd go after someone just like her. I'd find it hard to believe that you would have stayed faithful to dreary old _Mai _all this time, anyway. Though your pretty little daughter did look _exactly _like her, didn't she? She even had the same look in her eyes as Mai did when I slit her throat."

Zuko's heart plummeted.

He lost feeling in his limbs for a moment. The floor vanished from beneath his feet. He lurched backwards against the throne platform, her blue fire searing the back of his neck - but he couldn't feel it, or couldn't care.

Azula must have been able to see his shock - or at least, she must have been able to imagine it clearly enough. Her laugh was delighted, triumphant; childish, almost. He'd heard that laugh many times growing up. Only now it was monstrous.

"Oh, yes. You didn't get the message?" she chuckled. "Good old Uncle Fatso's gone too. I took them both out, along with Uncle's quaint little tea shop in Ba Sing Se, about a week ago."

"_You're lying!_" he screamed, undisguised desperation in his voice.

"Whatever you say." Her voice bounced gleefully back at him. "But if you're expecting a visit from them anytime soon, I wouldn't hold your breath."

He only slid to the ground, his broadswords clattering from his hands. His head tilted back against the wall, and he stared dully upward, up at the vague blue glare of her wall of fire.

_Azula always lies_, his reeling mind insisted feebly.

Ursa. Uncle.

Two of the people dearest to him in the world. Precious girl. Beloved teacher. Both at once.

No. It couldn't be. _No._

He couldn't even think of it. Couldn't even comprehend it as a possibility. He would break if he did. Just break.

_Azula always lies... Azula always lies..._

"Don't worry though, Zuzu," Azula's voice came again, slithering at him from nowhere and everywhere and right behind him, all at once. "I'm still planning on saving you for last. After I finish here, I'm going to find those two filthy Water Tribe peasants that you call friends. And the girl - Tenzin's pretty little mother - I think she'll get to die _especially _slowly, bound in chains, right where you can watch. And after her, it'll be your turn, at last. And I'll finally take back the throne that you stole from me... But before all that, I'm going to get that sweet little boy, and I'm going to slit his throat, with your knife."

Zuko's head throbbed. Nothing felt real right now. He couldn't even move.

"And you can try to run," she went on in cruel delight, "but I promise you, no matter where you go, I'll hunt you down. In fact, go ahead and run! The harder you try to escape, the more fun the chase will be for me."

* * *

><p>"Where's Zuko?" Tenzin asked, his voice small and faint. He had his face buried in Suki's neck, sitting wrapped in her arms on his own bed amid the smoldering ruins of his bedroom, and his eyes were fixed sideways on the dark doorway, watching without blinking.<p>

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Suki whispered, stroking his hair comfortingly. She didn't know if she was scared or furious that Zuko had run off after Azula alone. The guards were all standing in the corridor, around the doorway, and around the perimeter of the room - following orders, but also debating quietly among themselves whether or not to go off looking for him.

Suki, of course, refused to leave Tenzin alone, no matter what. But she burned with anger and frustration - Zuko should know that the best way to handle Azula was to stay together, to never be caught alone. Even if he was right, and she would stick with her scheme and not kill him until the rest of them had been taken out, it was a risk he should never have taken. But he was like that; he always had to do things like that. Facing everything alone.

"He's here!" the captain suddenly shouted, from the corridor.

Tenzin and Suki both jumped.

"Fire Lord Zuko!" the captain cried, and the guards bowed their heads respectfully as Zuko walked past, stumbling over the debris of the doors and into the bedroom. "Are you all right?"

Zuko didn't answer. He barely lifted his feet as he walked. His eyes were distant and dead.

Tenzin squirmed out of Suki's arms and ran to him, but hesitated to hug him for some reason. The little Airbender merely stood in his path, staring up at him with confusion and uncertainty. Zuko stared dully back at him for a moment, then suddenly fell to his knees and pulled the boy into a fierce, broken embrace. His arms quaked, and tears rolled down his cheek, landing on Tenzin's neck. Tenzin began to shake with sobs once more, too. He didn't know why Zuko was crying, but he joined him nevertheless.

Suki stood beside them, watching with deep concern. "Zuko?" she asked softly. "What happened? Where's Azula? Did you find her?"

Zuko finally released a tremulous sigh, loosening his hold on Tenzin, and looked up at her.

"She's still here," he whispered, his voice cracking hoarsely. "She's - I don't know where she is. But she's here, somewhere."

"Fire Lord, with your permission," the captain saluted him, "I'll gather my other men and conduct a thorough search of the palace immediately."

Zuko nodded, and the captain signaled for three of the guards to follow him, while the rest stayed behind to guard Zuko, Suki and Tenzin. No one said so aloud, but everyone knew - Suki could see it in Zuko's futile expression - everyone knew they wouldn't catch Azula. She would evade them: forever, if she had to. However long it took for her to successfully accomplish her demented mission. And they would all be fish in a barrel until then. Very skilled and dangerous fish - but fish, nonetheless. Waiting to be picked off, one by one.

Suki blazed with rage. It surprised her a little that rage was the emotion she felt the most strongly. But after years of living in fear, constantly watching the shadows, always on her guard - she couldn't take this anymore. She was going to lose her mind.

The room was silent for a very long time. Tenzin wrapped his arms tightly around Zuko's neck. And Suki observed the two of them, her spirit falling with every passing second.

"What are our options here, Zuko?" she asked quietly.

Zuko exhaled, slow and deliberate and anguished.

"Stay here," he whispered. "Or run."

Her eyes studied him gravely. "No third option?"

He shook his head. She wasn't sure if he was saying "no," or if he was merely lost and unsure.

"If we stay here," he said slowly, sorting the words out as he spoke them, "it's only a matter of time before she catches us off guard. And if we run, she'll chase us."

"So?"

He didn't reply for several moments. When he did, his voice was soft and intense.

"So we give her something to chase."

Suki watched him, furrowing her brow. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and after a moment comprehension flashed in her eyes. She nodded.

"What's going to happen, Zuko?" Tenzin whispered tentatively.

Zuko turned his eyes solemnly to the boy. "We're going to get you back to your mother, Tenzin," he said.


	19. Midnight Sun

_So, yeah... um... I really miss Aang. *sniffles*_

_That's all I've got to say about this chapter. Oh, and also, DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Nothing at all. Especially not Aang... much to my eternal sorrow! :'(_

* * *

><p><strong>MIDNIGHT SUN<strong>

"Remember this, Katara?"

She blinked – crystal white sunlight blazed from the icy landscape around her, scorched her eyes. She was in the South Pole again, standing on a snowy ridge that overlooked her village. The village was smaller than it had been last time she saw it, but still bigger than when she was growing up. Some kind of celebration was going on down below – everyone was gathered in the center, chatting and eating and laughing. The haunting smells of boiled sea crabs, seaweed noodles, stewed sea prunes, and Arctic hen wafted through the air, teasing her nose without mercy. She saw Sokka, Suki and her father down below, near the old wall. Sokka looked to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen. And apparently Hakoda had just said something very amusing, for Sokka's familiar, awkward guffaw reverberated loud enough to wake sleeping penguins in the North Pole. She couldn't see Pakku or Gran Gran anywhere, but they must have been around there somewhere, too.

Katara blinked again, and turned. Aang stood beside her on the ridge, surveying the scene below with satisfaction. He was slightly taller than she was, but still a little gangly – probably just barely fifteen. He smiled at her.

She felt herself glowing.

"Yeah, I remember," she nodded at him, laughing a little. "It's the Midnight Sun Celebration we had, about two years after the war - the first one. I mean, the first_ real_ one the village had had in - oh, I don't know, decades. Right? This was that time when you and Sokka got together with dad and Bato, and the four of you plotted and organized the whole thing behind my back. And Gran Gran's."

Aang bashfully scratched his head. "Yeah. Well, we were worried you two would try to do all the work."

She scowled at him playfully.

"What?" he shrugged, with a sheepish grin. "Come on, you probably would have. Anyway, we did a pretty good job on our own, don't you think?"

For a moment, she just looked at him, drinking in the sight of him. The pale midnight sun made his gray eyes shimmer, and something inside of her hurt sweetly.

She glanced down at the village, at the cheerful gathering there – at her family, everyone she loved most, all laughing and free, enjoying life – then back at Aang. Her dearest friend. An unexpected bolt of lightning cracked through her then. He'd done all this. Life had never been like this before he'd come along; there'd been no celebrations, no time for fun. But he'd made it possible just by existing. From the very first day she'd known him, joy had always seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Yes, that was it. Katara remembered this. She remembered how this night had reminded her why she loved him in the first place.

"It's perfect," she answered him finally, her smile shaking a tiny bit. "You guys did a wonderful job… Y'know, for a bunch of boys."

"Heh," Aang chuckled. "Thanks, Katara."

She couldn't quite manage to laugh with him, even though she was practically erupting with happiness and contentment. Even her playful little sarcastic jab came out feeble and half-hearted. Something within her was insisting that this moment was too beautiful to be spoiled with sarcasm. And for some unfathomable reason, her eyes suddenly welled with tears, catching her off guard. Hastily, she scrubbed the tears away, hiccupping over a small lump in her throat. And Aang took her hand and wrapped his fingers up with hers.

"I'm having another dream, aren't I, Aang?" she asked him after a moment, and she already knew the answer.

He nodded slowly.

"It's not like the dreams I usually have, though," she observed with some small bewilderment. "It feels different this time."

"Do you remember what happens next, Katara?"

For a moment she pondered, and then a sudden chortle burst out of her. "You mean, when Sokka and I got Gran Gran to pretend that she was really insulted that you didn't like her sea prunes, and you felt so bad that you forced the whole bowl down before you realized it was a joke? Because I definitely remember that part."

Aang was vehemently shaking his head, groaning in agony. He made a face and shuddered. "That was awful! I still can't believe you guys did that."

Katara only laughed even more. "Oh, admit it. It was hilarious." She sighed happily, wiping a small tear from her eye as her laughter died down into quiet chuckles.

"But later on," Aang persisted, once she'd grown quiet again. "Do you remember what happened tonight, with me and you?"

Pausing, she glanced at him, a frown of concentration wrinkling her brow. "Well, uh – let's see. We… we left the celebration for a while, because I wanted to go on a walk. And then we came up to this spot here, looking down, like we are right now. And then…"

He was gazing at her expectantly. Why couldn't she remember? She felt a little silly all of a sudden – it was something really simple and obvious. Something she definitely should not have forgotten…

"Penguins!" she exclaimed suddenly.

Now he was laughing at her. "There you go!"

"What else!" she grinned. Her heart palpitated inexplicably.

Looking around, she realized that they were no longer standing on the ridge overlooking the village, but were now quite a distance away. Sunset had come upon them without warning, and was just beginning to paint the midnight sky. And she and Aang were at the top of a large slope, surrounded by a flock of four-winged otter-penguins. It was the same place they'd gone penguin sledding the very first time, the day after she'd found him in the iceberg.

"Let's go!" Aang shouted, climbing onto the back of a penguin he'd somehow already captured. A moment later he and his penguin disappeared over the edge of the slope, and his familiar blithe laugh echoed through the arctic air.

Katara looked down and saw that there was a penguin already lying at her feet, waiting to slide. It looked up at her and squawked impatiently. She just laughed as well, deciding not to question it, and jumped on. Soon she was flying down the slope behind Aang, the icy wind running through her hair. Her heart raced at the steepness of the descent, and she unleashed a whoop of excitement.

"Beat you to the bottom!" she yelled at Aang over the roar of the wind, as her penguin pulled up alongside his.

"Yeah, you're right, I _am _gonna beat you to the bottom!" he sniggered, quite pleased with himself.

With a deep breath and a quick wave of his arms, he suddenly launched his penguin forward on a massive breeze, kicking up snow behind him. The velocity propelled him over a jut of rock, and for a few moments he and his penguin merely soared through the air, landing heavily in the snow quite a distance ahead of Katara. Aang's triumphant laughter pealed through the night.

"Cheater!" she bellowed after him.

Well, two could play at that game. Raising her arm in a sudden movement, Katara caused the snow beneath her penguin to swell and roll. It formed into a small wave behind her, curling up and pushing her forward. She rode the edge of the snowy wave, quickly gaining on Aang, who glanced over his shoulder just in time for Katara to Waterbend a snowball into his face.

"Ha!" she smirked. "That's what you get!"

Aang sputtered, blowing off the snow as she passed him by. They raced into an icy cave. It was almost completely dark inside, but here and there shafts of sleepy sunlight – golden dusk – pierced into the darkness. The ride was so smooth and the light so breathtaking that Katara almost imagined that she was floating, flying straight into an amber-colored daydream. Aang drifted up beside her, and a small spark of pure, concentrated happiness flickered between their eyes in an instant – before he grinned deviously and gave his penguin another boost of wind.

In a few moments, she emerged from the cave, just as Aang landed at the bottom and went tumbling off into the snow.

"I win!" he declared.

She also rolled off her penguin and landed on her back in the snow beside him, and they both laughed helplessly while their penguins waddled off.

And then, all at once, silence. It fell over them like a thick fur cloak.

The sky had grown dark now, still tinted pale by the eerie after-midnight sunset, and the stars were emerging timidly. And the two of them simply lay there, side by side, staring straight up into endlessness, breathing and breathing under the night. His hand found hers in the snow, and a warm spark of electricity crackled in her chest when his fingers brushed against her palm. A faint, very faint greenish ribbon of aurora shimmered across the southern sky above them, as the night grew deeper still.

Katara remembered this moment.

She lay there in the snow, inhaling the silence and the sky and the bottomless night. Exhaling the awareness of Aang there beside her – also breathing, also aware. Sinking into the cold and the quiet. Savoring. Thinking very hard about the gentle, serious way their fingers teased each other in the snow. Knowing that this small, silent moment would be one they'd both remember, forever.

Hair and coat sprinkled with snow, she rolled over towards him. He lay on his back, deep in the snow, and stared up at her, wide-eyed and glowing. She could feel his heart thudding frantically below her; she felt him draw in his breath and hold it. Her own heart fractured a bit. And that was when she leaned down and kissed him: deep and long and intense, gripping and heart-shattering, frightening and sweet and unforgettably real.

She remembered it perfectly. They'd been together for almost two years by then, but they were still young and often apart; she'd never kissed him like this before. This was stormy and intimate – more than they'd ever dared. She remembered how Aang's arms came up around her, drawing her in tighter, pulling her close. She remembered how acutely aware she suddenly became of every movement, every breath, every angle of his body, every nerve in her own flesh, every fold of fabric that separated them. She remembered the wildfire that surged in her chest, her stomach, somewhere near the bottom of her spine; and the way the two of them sank a little deeper together into the snow. She remembered how they lingered and lingered in it – and how fiercely she wished to never forget the way she felt at that moment – how she loved him then deep in her very bones and blood.

And when somehow it came to a reluctant end, they were both breathing hard, flushing, sweating heavily in their thick coats and soaked with snow. She was on top of him, wrapped in his arms; he was shaking. While they breathed and she attempted to make herself stop reeling and throbbing, he moved one of his hands and brushed some of her hair out of her face.

"Remember what happens next, Katara?" he finally whispered, still panting.

She searched his eyes. Her stomach curled suddenly.

"We were here," she said slowly, her throat beginning to go dry as the memory returned. She could barely force the words out: "We were lying here, like this. And then you said – "

" – We should get married sometime."

Katara sat up abruptly, looking away. A knife turned inside her.

"And then I – I laughed," she whispered, barely audible. A small tear stung her eye, and she blinked it away. "It… But you weren't serious that time. You laughed too, remember? We were just joking around. It was just an idea. I didn't mean…"

Aang sat up too, watching her gravely.

She looked back at him, breathing carefully, knots of dread, pain, regret, guilt, panic, all tangling up within her in a wild, hopeless mess. He didn't say anything, but she knew – she could see in his eyes that he saw straight through her.

"Why?" she demanded suddenly, all her other emotions giving way to anger. "Why did you show me this, Aang? Why did you make me remember?"

"I didn't do it," Aang said softly. "You did. It's your dream. I'm not even here."

She stood up, shaking, backed away from him. They weren't in the South Pole anymore, they were somewhere else now. The snow had melted, dissolved into lush grass, and everywhere around them was the sound of flowing water. They were beside the pool, in the Spirit Oasis. The air was warm, and the Koi fish were still circling one another.

"Not here," Katara shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, feeling like she was going to vomit. "Not this again. No – no! Not again!"

It was different this time, though. This wasn't like her other dreams. Something was different.

Aang stood up, too, his eyes fixed on her. All the joy was suddenly gone from his expression; all that was left was sorrow, brokenness, emptiness. She'd done it to him. She knew it – she'd broken him – she'd destroyed him. It was the same expression he had on his face when he left the South Pole for the last time. He was already gone. It was her fault. Her lungs fought for air.

"Aang – " she gasped, barely able to form the sound of his name.

"Why didn't you want me?" he asked softly.

"What?" she choked. Her heart dropped like a rock into her stomach.

"You didn't want me, Katara," he repeated, very quietly. There was nothing bitter or accusatory in the statement; he only sounded lost and bewildered.

"No!" she cried. "No! That's not true – "

"What did I do wrong?" His eyes pleaded with her. "What was wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" She was practically strangling in her own desperate cries. "Nothing was wrong with you! Aang, don't!"

He was standing in the center of the pond now – she hadn't seen him walk in, but he was there somehow. The Koi fish swam in circles around his legs, and he dropped his eyes to the water. For some reason, she wasn't running to him – she wasn't pulling him out of the water, or pulling him to safety. She wasn't taking his hand and bringing him back with her. She was just standing there, watching. Standing there uselessly, screaming at him, knowing how this would end but doing nothing to stop it.

Aang sighed and shut his eyes tightly.

"It's okay, Katara," he whispered, faint and defeated, each word a painful effort. "I understand that you don't want me. I just – I just wanted to know why, that's all."

She couldn't bear it – ferocious sobs burst from her throat, and her eyes burned with tears. But she still just stood there, doing nothing, watching him stand in the middle of the inevitable pond.

"Please don't do this!" she begged him. "You _don't _understand, Aang! I _do _want you! Please, come back!"

"You can't keep holding on like this, Katara." He suddenly looked back up at her, his eyes solemn and sad.

For a moment, she couldn't speak. She just blinked at him, horrified, mouth hanging open. "What?" she finally gasped.

"You can't keep going on this path," he said. "You can't follow me. If you follow me, you'll never return home. You've got to let me go."

"What!" she shrieked again, heart pounding. "No! - What? - What are you - ?"

"Katara, don't." He closed his eyes – a tear rolled down his cheek, and he turned away in sharp pain. "It would be better now if you just forgot about me. Please."

"Aang..." Her voice stumbled, scraping feebly out of her throat. Panic was boiling within her, mixed with a surging frustration. She clenched her fists tightly and her words burst out increasingly loud and desperate. "Stop!" she begged him. "Don't say things like that - please - I can't! Stop talking!"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be all right." He seemed unable to look at her. His voice wavered, anguished, but his tone was firm and resigned. "It's too late for me anyway. You just need to worry about yourself now. You'll feel better once you forget."

"No!" Katara thundered, almost hysterical, her fingernails digging into her palms, her heart screaming. "_No_! I can't – I _won't_! Stop talking like that! Stop it! Aang! _Aang_!"

Without another word, he vanished – slipped straight downward, into the water, in the blink of an eye. Out of her grasp forever.

* * *

><p>Katara didn't wake up with a start or a scream. She woke up silently, slowly, her eyes easing open with a thick, weary heaviness. There were no tears soaking her pillow this time, much to her surprise. But her heart was tumbling, and she felt filthy and sick to her stomach.<p>

"You okay?" It was Sokka. He was sitting up by their campfire, fully awake and alert, weaving reeds together with no apparent purpose. His blue eyes studied her carefully.

She nodded rather feebly, and sat up.

Yonten lay serenely sprawled on the bare ground nearby, his almost-silent breaths flowing with the steady rhythm of deep slumber. Appa was curled up near Sokka, resting after the long flight he'd made that day. It was their third day in the Earth Kingdom, and it would still be another two before they reached Gaoling, Toph's hometown.

Katara had been taking note of the dark circles developing under Sokka's eyes over the past few days. She knew he was looking out for her – it was just what he did – but she wished he would at least shut his eyes once in a while.

"It's gotta be almost morning, Sokka," she commented. "Haven't you slept at all?"

He shrugged. "A little. Don't worry about me, though – I can get by without much sleep." He looked very hard at her. "How was _your_ sleep, Katara?"

She couldn't answer, or meet his eyes.

The details of the dream were already fading away. She'd been in the South Pole - she and Aang. But when and why? What had they been doing? She'd felt happy - _more_ than happy. She'd experienced the thrill of being in love again, as vividly as if it were the first time. But why? What had caused it? And what in the world had she done that had crushed it so completely, and turned it all so dark, so that now her spirit was coughing up dust and her heart was retching in misery?

She couldn't remember now. It was gone. But she did remember what he'd said: every single word he'd spoken at the end, before slipping away.

_You'll never return home - __It's too late - __It's better now if you just forget - _

_You've got to let me go._

She blinked, staring at nothing, and swallowed down the churning nausea. She couldn't cry - it was beyond that. She couldn't react at all. It was too much to even think about. She couldn't bear it.

"Katara?" Sokka said quietly, tilting his head to try to catch her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

She shook her head, gathering the strength to speak. "Pretty awful," she croaked feebly.

"What?"

She sighed. Her hands were trembling. She folded them severely into her lap.

"My sleep," she said, a little louder this time. "You asked how my sleep was. And I said it was pretty awful."

"Oh," Sokka replied, hesitating. "More bad dreams?"

She nodded very slowly.

"Aang and the - the face thing, again?" he asked in a hush, shifting with discomfort and keeping his eyes fixed studiously on her.

She still couldn't look at him.

No. It was different this time. There hadn't been a Face-Stealer. Only herself. She'd lost Aang again - but this time, it had somehow been her fault, and no one else's. She couldn't remember how, or what she'd done. But she knew it, deep in her bowels. It was all her. She'd done it to him. She'd destroyed him; destroyed everything.

Why was it different this time?

And then - the rest.

His request that she forget him, let him go...

This had never happened to her before. She'd never had a dream like this one.

Did he really want that? No - he couldn't. He _couldn't. _How could he want her to forget him? And she couldn't do it, anyway. She _wouldn't_ do it. She hadn't been able to let him go for five years, even with the strong possibility that he was dead. How could she now? Now that she had a chance to save him? Now that she was so close? How could he ask such a thing of her?

And then the warning. The warning that she'd never return home...

She couldn't tell Sokka.

She didn't even know what she thought, or how she felt. It was too much - too overwhelming. Too much to bear. But she couldn't tell Sokka.

Suddenly, Katara felt more abandoned than ever. The loneliness knocked the wind out of her, like a cruel splash of icy water.

Hands trembling, she reached for Aang's betrothal necklace in her pocket, and squeezed it tightly in her fist - defiant - holding on to it for dear life. Distantly, she felt herself nod at Sokka.

"Uh... yeah," she answered him, thinking that her voice seemed alien and awkward. She wasn't used to lying, especially not to Sokka, and it made the words taste odd and unpleasant. "Yeah. Just one of the old nightmares. Aang and the face-thing. Same as always."

"Hmph." Sokka frowned, pondering. He didn't seem to notice that she'd lied to him, even though Katara had thought it was absurdly obvious.

"Well," he said finally, "I'm sorry, Katara. Try not to let it bother you too much."

She shuddered, curling into herself, almost crushing that betrothal necklace in her desperate grip. A tear simmered in her eye, and she quickly turned away from Sokka to keep him from seeing it.

"Easy for you to say," she mumbled.

He sighed, weary and grieved for her sake. "I know," he said softly. "But _really_, I mean it. It's just a dream."

"Right," she whispered, almost too quiet to be heard. "It's just a dream."

A dark anxiety was boiling in her. Aang had said it was too late. Too late to save him? But it couldn't be. No, it couldn't be. Yonten had said by the Solstice - _that_ was the day, that was the deadline. And the Solstice was still more than three weeks away. Wasn't it? They'd be at the North Pole long before the Solstice. How could it be too late? She knew it wasn't; but nevertheless, her heart raced. Had she somehow missed the deadline? Was it all over? Was her only chance gone - no way to go back and correct it? Had she ruined her life forever because she'd somehow dallied too long?...

"Sokka," she whispered, fighting to keep breathing at a normal pace. "What day is today?"

He cocked his eyebrows at her, confused. "Uh... Thursday?"

"No, I mean - " She inhaled slowly, deliberately. "I mean - how long is it until the Solstice?"

"Still about twenty-two, twenty-three days. Something like that." He must have seen the anxiety in her face. With a concerned frown, he got up and came to sit beside her, rubbing her shoulders. "Hey - don't panic, okay? We'll get to the North Pole long before the Solstice. There's nothing to worry about."

She just nodded, focused on breathing, the betrothal necklace embedding itself into her sweating, trembling palm.

Tenzin. She wanted Tenzin.

A sudden chill washed over her. Aang didn't want her to come after him. He'd said she'd never return home. What if...?

What if that commonplace, early morning good-bye - the quiet farewell she'd had with Tenzin three days ago, when she'd promised to return by the Solstice - what if that was the last time - ?

_No!_

The idea was too painful for her mind to even finish thinking. It wasn't possible. She didn't dare think of it again.

Each of her muscles was shaking, against her will; she leaned wearily on Sokka's shoulder, closing her eyes tightly.

"I..." she wheezed, feeling faint. "I miss Tenzin." It was all she could manage to say.

Sokka didn't reply; just continued rubbing her shoulder, trying to give her whatever comfort he could.

"I've never been away from him this long," she observed after a few moments. A small tear rolled down her cheek; she didn't bother trying to stop it or hide it this time. She didn't have the will.

"You've never really been away from him, ever, have you?" Sokka asked quietly.

She shook her head, sniffling and rubbing her nose. "I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he's just fine," Sokka reassured her. "Zuko and Suki will take good care of him."

"I know," she sighed. At that moment, she would have given anything to have him safe in her arms again. She missed him so intensely that it physically hurt. The idea that she might never... never have him in her arms again... after promising him -

"Sokka," she began, reluctant but desperate for support, any kind of support.

"Hm?"

"Tell me the truth..."

"Oh, boy." Sokka tensed up, anticipating where this was going.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" She examined him imploringly. Everything about her expression looked lost and alone.

Sokka hesitated for a long, long time. "You want the truth?" he finally asked, with a cautionary tone.

She nodded.

"Remember, this is _me _you're asking. You sure you want to hear it?"

Katara scowled bitterly, turning away from him. "You know what, never mind," she spat. "Forget I asked." She should have known better than to ask Sokka.

"Katara - " he protested, sighing deeply. "Look, I'm sorry. You know I'm not always going to tell you what you want to hear."

He touched her shoulder gently. She relaxed a bit, breathing shakily and wiping away another fiery tear. "I know," she whispered.

He was scrutinizing her carefully - very, _very _carefully.

"Do _you _think you're doing the right thing?" he asked her at last.

For a moment - to her own surprise - she did not reply. Merely stared at the ground distantly.

"Because if _you _don't, then - "

"No," she interrupted, angry at herself for not answering him immediately. "No. No, I do. I know it's right. I _know _it. It has to be. It has to be - I can't - I can't _do _anything else."

It seemed Sokka was not entirely sure how to respond to that. He just stared at her worriedly, opening his mouth several times as if to speak, but repeatedly hesitating. "Katara?"

She looked back at him. "What?"

"What's bothering you?" The question was severe and adamant, but only out of tender concern.

Katara just shook her head evasively. No - there was no way she could tell him.

"Nothing," she said, in guilty haste. "Just... forget I said anything, Sokka. It's nothing. We'll be at the North Pole in a few days, and I'll do whatever I need to, and before you know it we'll all be going home and everything will be fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Before he could say anything else, or try to force any more information out of her, she lay back down and rolled away from him, curling up and pretending to go back to sleep at once. Much to her relief, he didn't try to keep the conversation going. Instead, she heard him sigh after a few tense moments of silence, and then his hand was patting her arm softly.

"Sure, Katara. There's nothing to worry about." She could tell from his tone that his worries were far from alleviated, but nevertheless, he left her to herself for now. "I'll wake you up when it's time to head out, okay?"

"Mm-hm," she mumbled, acting as if she were already halfway asleep again.

Her fingers clutched the betrothal necklace as if it were her only anchor to life. She brought it near to her heart, enclosed in her quavering fist, unwilling to loosen her grip on it even a tiny bit.

It was stupid, anyway. Just a stupid dream. That's all. Nothing to worry about.

Yet -

Why was it that the beautiful ending she'd been imagining, suddenly felt a little bit less inevitable than it had the day before?

* * *

><p><em>Geezsh, I'm a terrible person... Anyway, next chapter ought to be up in a day or two!<em>


	20. Crossing Paths

_Sweet! Two chapters in one day! Am I awesome or am I awesome? _:D

_So, funny story: I actually originally thought that the stuff that happens in this chapter was going to happen like... three chapters ago. Ha._

_Well, at least we're here now! Things are moving right along. Still can't believe how long this fanfic has gotten... or how much longer it's going to get before it's over.  
>So, let's see. I'm predicting... twelve more chapters till the end! Heh, yeah, we'll see how that works out.<em>

_DISCLAIMER: I don't really have to do a disclaimer before every single chapter, do I? I mean, isn't it obvious that I don't own these characters? If I DID own them, you can bet I'd be doing an awful lot more than just posting this story up here... Meh, whatever._

_Also, _**YAY! LEGEND OF KORRA SEASON FINALE HOLY CRAP I'M SO PSYCHED GUYS YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!**_ *hyperventilates*  
>... I'm cool. It's all good. Mm-hmm.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>CROSSING PATHS<strong>

On the road about ten miles outside of Gaoling, a small but elegant metal carriage – its doors ornamented with an intricate winged boar – stirred up dust on its way toward the setting sun.

It was quite an unusual carriage: though it moved at a speed ten times as fast as an ordinary one, it was not pulled by any animal, and where its wheels should have been, there were thick metal tracks instead. It was, in fact, much more like a small graceful tank than a carriage, and had been specially designed for the blind Earthbending master it belonged to. She currently stood on top of its roof in a sturdy stance, her long bangs flying in the wind, as she propelled the carriage forward by shoving the ground out from beneath it with easy, sweeping gestures from her arms.

The carriage _did _actually have an engine, and ran quickly enough on its own. But Earthbending was faster. And anyway, Toph found traveling like this a lot more exciting than simply lounging in the cab and picking the dirt out of her toes while she waited to _get _there.

The only drawback really was that she was pretty much demolishing the road as they went. Of course, she could have Metalbended the tracks instead, pushing the carriage forward manually, which would have spared the road. But moving the wheels actually took a lot more effort than just moving the ground. And anyway, Toph didn't really give a damn about the road. Someone else would fix it.

Ursa poked her head out of the window on the right side of the carriage, shielding her face from the dust that Toph was kicking up as she pushed them along.

"Auntie Toph!" she shouted. "I gotta go to the bathroom!"

"You should have gone before we left!" Toph shouted back, not slowing her stride in the slightest. "You can hold it for a while!"

"But I _really _gotta go!"

Toph sighed irritably, and shifted her stance, pulling her fists in tightly to her abdomen in a sudden, thrusting motion. The ground beneath the carriage grinded loudly against the tracks, and the carriage itself screeched to a rough, unhappy stop. Ursa toppled over with a grunt.

"Fine," Toph said, jumping to the ground and crossing her arms sternly. "Go find a bush somewhere. And hurry up."

Hastily, the little girl scrambled upright and unlatched the door, running off to find the nearest bush. Toph leaned against the side of the carriage, chuckling to herself at the urgency of Ursa's footsteps. Either she really, _really_ had to go – or she knew that when Toph said "hurry up," she meant _hurry up_. Or both.

"You all right in there, Uncle?" Toph asked after a moment, not hearing any sound from the old man.

Uncle grunted inside, stirring slightly. "I've been better, to tell you the truth. But don't worry about me."

Toph frowned. He really expected her not to worry? It was only yesterday that he and Ursa had shown up at her door, yet even in that short amount of time, Toph could feel that his injuries were growing increasingly serious. She knew he needed help, even if he wouldn't admit it.

That was yet another reason – the most urgent reason at the moment – why she wanted to get them to the Fire Nation as quickly as possible. Katara would know what to do. Katara always knew what to do. She would take care of him. Everything would be fine. They just needed to _get _there.

Hopefully Ursa wouldn't be demanding potty breaks every half hour.

"I'm done!" the little princess declared as she scuttled anxiously back to the carriage.

"Took you long enough," Toph smirked. "Hurry up and get back inside, so we can get going again."

"Hey – what's that up there?" she suddenly cried, pointing toward the western sky.

"You _know_ I can't see anything up there, squirt," Toph said flatly. "Why are you asking me?"

She heard Uncle sit up rather painfully in the carriage behind her. "What do you see, Ursa?"

"Up there, Uncle!" Ursa said, pointing again. "That thing in the sky!"

Uncle was silent for a few moments, probably straining his old eyes against the sun to see what it was. Finally, he exclaimed, "It's a sky bison!"

Toph's heart jumped. "Appa!" she cried. "Sokka and Suki must be coming to check up on me. They can take you two to the Fire Nation! Appa's a lot faster than this old contraption."

"They're pretty high up," Uncle said. "We need to get their attention somehow."

"Oh, _I'll _get their attention." Toph cracked her knuckles, grinning. "Ursa, point me at them."

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?" Katara murmured sleepily. "I don't remember Gaoling being this far away."<p>

Sokka blinked a few times, rubbing the heaviness out of his eyelids. Appa groaned at him wearily, echoing Katara's complaints. It had been nearly a week since their departure from the Fire Nation - a long, uncomfortable week of what felt like non-stop flying, with a severe shortage of regular sleep, but no lack of tension and awkwardness. Sokka had been feeling increasingly nostalgic during the trip, appreciating more and more every day the easy dynamic that had arisen between them and Aang all those years ago. But, of course, he knew things could never be the same; he didn't want them to be.

"We're almost there," Sokka replied, pointing to the hazy shape of Toph's hometown on the horizon below them. "See? There it is down there. We should be there in about ten minutes."

"I didn't realize this was going to be such a long detour," Yonten commented, rather irritably. They were all feeling pretty irritable by this point. "I certainly hope it was worth it, coming all this way for your friend - whatever her name is - Tofe? Tuph?"

"That would be _Toph_, pally," Sokka corrected him curtly. "And I'd very strongly suggest you pronounce her name right when you're around her. For your own personal well-being."

"Hey," Katara interrupted, sitting up and peering curiously out over Appa's saddle, towards the ground below them. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Sokka asked lazily.

Suddenly a massive pillar of earth shot up straight into their path, with a dusty, dark-haired girl riding atop it.

"Hey guys!" Toph shouted.

Sokka, Katara and Yonten all screamed with surprise, and Appa roared and lurched sideways in fright, nearly causing them all to go tumbling into the air. Quickly, Sokka pulled up on the reins and straightened them out, circling back around to where Toph stood on her improvised mountain.

"You trying to _kill _us?" Sokka sputtered furiously.

"Oh, you're okay," Toph waved her hands dismissively. "I had to get your attention somehow. Anyway, hurry up and land. We need to talk."

She punched her fists toward the ground rapidly, simultaneously pounding down with her left foot. The entire enormous pile of rock instantly retreated back into the earth, carrying her down with it.

Sokka, Katara and Yonten all exhaled, waiting for their hearts to beat normally again.

"I'm guessing that was her?" Yonten asked after a moment, as Sokka began bringing Appa down.

"Good guess, Arrow Head." Sokka rolled his eyes.

In a few moments, Appa's six great furry legs touched down amid a whirlwind of dust and leaves. The weary bison groaned and instantly lay flat on his belly, glad for a chance to rest. Sokka slid to the ground, where Toph was standing to meet him.

"What's going on?" Sokka asked, encircling the Earthbender in a warm hug, and glancing curiously over her shoulder at Zuko's little daughter, who was talking to someone through the window of the carriage.

"A lot," Toph sighed. "Where's Suki?"

"Back with Zuko in the Fire Nation," Sokka replied, while Katara climbed out of the saddle behind him. "I'll explain later."

"_Katara_?" Toph exclaimed in surprise, as soon as Katara's feet touched the ground.

"Hey, Toph," Katara smiled, coming forward. The two girls embraced each other tightly.

"Aunt Tara!" Ursa shouted, racing forward and nearly knocking Katara over with the force of her hug. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"I'm happy to see you too!" Katara beamed, squeezing the little girl affectionately. "I wasn't expecting to see you here!"

"_I _wasn't expecting to see _you _here!" Toph cried, almost laughing with astonishment. "What are you doing here, Katara? It's been so long! We've all been so worried about you."

"I know," Katara murmured softly.

"What's been going on?" Toph asked. "Why are you guys here? Where's Tenzin? There isn't anything wrong, is there? Uncle said that Zuko said someone had news about – "

Just at that moment, Yonten leaped out of Appa's saddle and came drifting to the ground. The instant that his feathery-light Airbender feet made contact with the earth, Toph nearly jumped out of her skin, and she unleashed a sound that none of them had ever heard from her before:

She _squealed_. Like a _girl_.

Before anyone even had a chance to blink, she tackled Yonten in a bone-crushing hug. The astonished Airbender turned bright red immediately, but it was only for a split second, because Toph almost instantly released him and slammed her foot fiercely into the ground, launching him into the air on a sudden bulge of dirt. He landed back in Appa's saddle with a painful thud.

"You're not Twinkle Toes!" she roared furiously.

Everyone just gawked at her, stunned. Yonten groaned in the saddle. An eerie shiver suddenly crawled up Sokka's spine.

"Toph," he said. "Don't ever, _ever _squeal like that again. Please."

Toph scowled, all her muscles tensed. "Sorry," she spat. "I just got excited for a second."

"Yeah, he's gotten that reaction from pretty much everyone so far," Katara sighed, trying hard not to laugh. "Are you okay, Yonten?"

A miserable moan in the affirmative came from the saddle.

"Someone _please _explain to me what's going on!" Toph demanded. "_Now_! Who is that guy? What's the news about Aang? What's this all about?"

Sokka sighed. "Here, Toph," he said. "Let's take a walk. I'll explain everything. There's… well, there's a lot that's been going on recently."

Toph hesitated for a brief instant. "All right," she said, sighing and relaxing slightly. "But – if it's gonna take a while, then I need to talk to Katara first."

"What is it?" Katara asked. There was an almost imperceptible tremor in Toph's voice that concerned her greatly. If Toph was ever afraid or anxious, it was always almost impossible to tell. But Katara could sense that the Earthbender was hiding a great deal of worry at the moment.

"Come with me," Toph said quickly, taking Katara's hand and leading her toward the carriage. "Iroh's here, and he's hurt. I don't know what exactly is wrong with him, just that it's bad. But now that you're here, you'll be able to fix him."

"What?" Katara exclaimed, deeply alarmed. "But what happened to him?"

Toph sighed again. "It's too much to explain right now. It'll have to wait till later. Believe me, a lot's been going on on our end, too."

* * *

><p>The sun soon slipped below the horizon, and Ursa helped Sokka and Toph start a small campfire near Appa, a short distance from the road. The three of them sat around the fire, while Appa snored nearby, and Sokka explained everything as best he could. Meanwhile, Katara tended to Iroh in the carriage, and Yonten remained by her side – no doubt afraid of Toph, after her initial reaction to him, which Toph couldn't help but find a little bit satisfying.<p>

After the entire situation had been explicated to her, Toph merely sat in pensive silence, the flames flickering in the hazy reflection of her eyes. Ursa dozed beside her, leaning against her side, still in desperate need of comfort and security after the ordeals she'd been through recently. And Sokka scrutinized Toph closely, attempting to gauge her reaction.

At last, Toph released a slow, slightly tremulous sigh.

"The Face-Stealer?" she said, her voice hushed and uncertain.

"That's what he said," Sokka nodded, also in a hush. Something about the very idea of it made them both feel wary and nervous, like children frightened of the dark.

A chill crept up Toph's spine, and she cringed. "But, why did that thing come after Aang? What did Aang ever do to _it_? And why did it take so long for us to find out about this? And why weren't any of _us _contacted directly – why did it have to come through that Airbending pansy over there?"

"I don't know," Sokka sighed, stirring the fire distractedly with a stick. Despite his frustration at the situation, his mouth twitched with a brief smile. Leave it to Toph to jump directly to those straightforward, common sense questions that it seemed like only _he _had been bothered by up till now. That was why he and Toph had always got along so well: they both preferred to cut straight through the nonsense and get to the point.

Toph hugged her knees to her chest, somewhat disturbing the dozing Ursa, who blinked blearily, yawned, and readjusted against her side.

"Do you – " Toph began, then stopped, unsure what she was asking, or if she really wanted to ask it. "Do you think – I mean – how's Katara supposed to deal with something like this?"

Now it was Sokka's turn to cringe, and his fists clenched almost subconsciously.

"That's just it," he sighed. "I'm not sure she _can _deal with this. But she thinks she can. At least, right now she does. Honestly, I don't think she's really thought it through clearly at all."

"Should we really let her do this?" Toph asked, deeply concerned. "I mean, I want to save Aang as much as anyone – well, maybe not as much as Katara, but close. But… _Sokka_. The_ Face-Stealer_?"

"I know."

"And what about Tenzin?"

"I know."

"Sokka, we can't let her do this."

"We have to, Toph." Sokka breathed carefully, painfully. "She's made up her mind."

"We could stop her if we really wanted to," Toph argued.

"Maybe, but," Sokka shook his head, "but, how could we do that to her? What would we do? Try to fight her and keep her locked up somehow - 'cause I'm sure _that _would be a piece of cake - and then tell her that we're not gonna let her have this one chance that's been dropped into her lap? You know we can't do that to her. _I _can't do that to her."

"No, I couldn't do that to her, either," Toph shook her head as well. "We could… persuade her? You know, with… words?"

"Nothing we say would persuade her," Sokka growled, poking at the fire again. "Trust me, I've been thinking about that exact thing a lot over the past few days. But there's nothing we can do. I - I don't know. I think she needs this, Toph. Or she thinks she does, anyway. You know how messed up she's been since Aang disappeared. Just imagine how much worse it'll be if she has this chance to get him back, and she somehow misses it. It'll haunt her for the rest of her life."

"Yeah," Toph said grimly, "but if she gets her face stolen, I'm pretty sure that'll haunt her for the rest of her life too."

"_Don't say that!_" Sokka exploded at her savagely. "Don't ever, _ever _say that again!"

Toph didn't like making him upset, but she wasn't going to back down. "I'm just telling it like it is, Sokka," she said defensively. "I know it's hard to hear, but don't get angry at _me_."

Sokka didn't reply; he couldn't. Not yet. He stared hard into the flames of the campfire, biting his lower lip, his stomach crunching into a ball inside him. It wasn't fair – none of this. There was no good way out of the situation. No matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to protect Katara. He wouldn't be able to fix her, or save her from her own crippling damage. And he wouldn't be able to protect her when the time came for her to confront this _thing_, this nightmare that had Aang captive. She'd have to do that on her own, and there was nothing he could do.

And then there was Aang, too – so unjustly ripped from all their lives. His best friend, his little brother, trapped in a nightmare beyond their reach, while the life he should have been living was passing him by in the waking world. And there was nothing Sokka could do for him, either.

Sokka clenched his teeth. Hatred and frustration crackled and snapped inside of him, like the flames of that fire. Hatred for the vile creature that had done this to all of them. Frustration that he was helpless to do anything about it.

But Katara wasn't helpless. He knew she wasn't. The thought of his sister in that kind of danger filled him with rage and terror; but he knew she _might _do it. It wasn't impossible. Not only that, but it seemed she was the only one who could, according to Yonten. Why it had to be her, he didn't know. He would have much rather gone himself, in her stead. He had less to lose; and he'd rather be lost himself than lose her. But that apparently wasn't an option.

While Sokka seethed to himself, fighting through these painful emotions, Toph merely waited and listened. She could feel the hate and fear and frustration that were battling within him. She couldn't imagine what this must be like for him. Honestly, for her, it was still all barely processing. Just the idea of Aang – tranquil, cheerful, lily-livered Twinkle Toes – back in all their lives again, after all this time, was almost… _incomprehensible_.

Yet she'd had that moment earlier… That single instant of hope, flashing like lightning, when she'd truly thought…

And just now, a short distance away, there lurked an unsettling pair of feet that seemed to barely touch the ground. She still felt a jolt of shock each time she paid any notice to the strange Airbender's footfalls, and had to remind herself over and over that it wasn't Aang. Not Aang. Just an impostor.

Like Sokka, Toph had no doubt that Katara _could _face whatever this monstrosity was. Katara was one of the strongest people she knew, though Toph would have felt awkward to ever tell her so.

Katara _could _do it. That is – it was conceivable that she might actually succeed.

But – _should _she? That, Toph didn't feel so sure of.

Another icy shudder suddenly passed through the blind Earthbender. She always forgot to remember exactly how much she really cared about Katara.

"What's the right thing to do, Toph?" Sokka asked suddenly, his voice almost inaudible.

She sighed heavily. "I don't know if there _is _a right thing to do."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say." Sokka glared at the campfire, allowing his thoughts to stir a little longer. Finally, he spoke again: "I think – I mean, I think it's too late to turn back now. She _has _to do this, whether we like it or not."

"Sokka – "

"No, listen. I don't understand why all this is happening, or why it has to be this way. But," he breathed. "The thing is - and I've been thinking about this a lot, too - all of us: you, me, Zuko. We don't see the situation the same way she does. We only see that Katara's putting herself in some serious, unnecessary danger, possibly risking leaving Tenzin an orphan, for a vague hope that doesn't even seem real. To us, or at least to me, it feels like the chances of this all working out right are ridiculously slim, and that it would be a lot better if she could just stay home and accept that things are never going to go back to the way they were."

He exhaled again, trying to say exactly what he thought. Toph waited.

"But I think," he finally went on, speaking softly; Toph could feel the grief that strained his words. "I think the only reason I don't see it like she does - that _none _of us see it like she does - is that all of us... We already gave up on Aang a long time ago. Even if we didn't realize we did, we did. And Katara's - she's the only one of us who didn't."

That one hit Toph hard enough to stun her for a moment. As soon as Sokka had said it, she knew it was true. She _had _given up on Aang; probably years ago, in fact. The realization left a sour taste in her mouth: she would have preferred not to know that about herself, especially now that they knew he was still alive - well, at least, that he wasn't dead. She could sense the guilt in Sokka's voice and knew that he felt the same way. How could they have given up on him so easily?

But they had. All of them. All except Katara.

"And that," Sokka continued after a long, uneasy pause - "Well, Toph... it kinda makes me feel awful."

"Me too," she muttered.

"But it also makes me feel proud," he said, surprising her. "Proud of Katara, I mean. And sad for her, because she's been keeping this hope alive all by herself, all this time. And now that there's finally a chance, it just seems like everything and everyone's trying extra hard to crush it. Including me, I'll admit. But not on purpose."

"Yeah, I understand," Toph nodded. "But Sokka, that still doesn't change the fact that she _is _putting herself in serious danger because of some crazy hope that somehow she can make things go back to normal."

Sokka shook his head. "Things won't go back to normal," he said. "I think she knows that, at least somewhere deep down. Anyway, since when have things ever actually been normal for us? I mean, what does that even mean, 'back to normal'?"

Toph sniggered a bit, quietly. "Good point."

"And - " Sokka sighed. "I don't know. She said something weird the other night."

"What?"

"She woke up from some dream and seemed really flustered about it, and started asking me if I thought she was doing the right thing. I was gonna say 'no,' but - honestly, I really don't know if she's doing the right thing. Like you said, I'm not sure there _is _a right thing to do at this point. And I didn't want to make her upset anyway. So instead I asked her what she thought. And she said... Basically, she said there was nothing else she _could _do. She couldn't do anything else."

Toph pondered. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sokka sighed. "And... the thing is, I kinda believe her. I don't think she actually _can _do anything else. I mean like, literally, she can't. Not without - I don't know, exploding, or - or not being Katara anymore. I don't know. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does." She faltered. "But Sokka - what if everything goes wrong?"

Sokka smirked slightly, though he certainly felt as far from happy as he could imagine. "Well, things went wrong for us a lot of times before. But if we hadn't taken those risks, then nothing would have ever changed. Right?"

Toph smiled a little as well, though something bitterly sad pinched at her heart. "Are you becoming an _optimist_ now?" she joked half-heartedly

He chuckled. "I guess so." Exhaling, he went on, feeling somewhat fortified, though he wasn't sure if it was resolve or resignation that gave his words assurance, "If nothing else, she at least has to try, for her own sake. We just have to trust that she can do it."

"But she's not really doing it for her own sake, is she?" Toph said softly. "She's doing it for Aang."

Sokka paused, and a small, sad smile twitched in the corner of his mouth. "Well," he murmured, "maybe that's why she can do it."

* * *

><p>"This doesn't look good," Katara murmured, furrowing her brow in concern.<p>

Yonten watched, intrigued, as Katara's hands drifted over the old man's chest and stomach. The healing water that swirled around her fingers, glowing with a dim inner light, left faint trails across Iroh's skin, and he struggled not to flinch at her touch.

"You've got a lot of internal damage," she told him gravely, her voice quivering a bit. "I don't know how much I can do at this point. If I'd been able to help sooner – "

He shook his head faintly, groaning. "No," he said. "There's no use talking like that. What's done is done."

Katara bit her lower lip, a small storm of rage swelling within her. "I still can't believe Azula did this to you," she spat bitterly. "To both of you. It's just – she's a monster. A complete monster."

"Katara – " Uncle began.

"She deserves to die." The words dropped, quiet and sharp, from her mouth, almost before she'd even thought them.

"_Katara_." He gave her a severe look.

Katara sighed, shaking her head. "I know," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You don't seem like your usual self," he observed after a pause, studying her knowingly. "There is much turmoil inside you."

"I'm fine," Katara said hastily, avoiding his discerning eyes. "Don't worry about me. It's _you _we need to worry about right now. It's going to be hard to fix all the damage that's been done."

"Can you…?" Yonten whispered anxiously, peering over her shoulder as she worked, his voice barely audible. "I mean – is it…?"

"I believe the young Airbender wants to know if I am going to live or not," Iroh said, perfectly calm. Yonten flushed, embarrassed, while Uncle merely leaned back and closed his eyes serenely.

Katara hesitated, watching the old man intently. A small, accursed truth - one that had been growing more certain in her mind since the moment she'd seen Uncle in the carriage, since she'd listened to Toph's rushed explanation - tore at her heart ruthlessly. But it wasn't the small, accursed truth she knew that both Iroh and Yonten were expecting her to say.

She finally sighed, forcing her voice to keep steady, agonizingly aware of what she was sentencing herself to, but refusing to think about it at the moment.

"Yes," she said, slowly, trying very hard to sound sure of herself. "You _will _make it. You will. I can do it."

Both Iroh and Yonten glanced at her, while she avoided looking at either of them.

"But you can't stay out here," she went on after a moment, standing and returning the healing water to her pouch. "You need to be somewhere safe, to rest and heal without being disturbed. And you need to get there as soon as possible."

She spoke hastily now - it kept her from thinking about her words.

Uncle did not reply; merely watched her closely, noting that she seemed to be fighting something within herself. Fighting to keep herself from falling apart, while also trying desperately to keep anyone else from noticing.

"Come with me, Yonten," she muttered. "We need to talk to the others. Stay here and try not to move, Uncle. I'll be back in just a minute."

She took off with conviction in the direction of Sokka and Toph's campfire, the Airbender following anxiously behind.

Toph rose to her feet long before they reached the spot, sensing them coming, and she stepped forward to meet them, holding out a rather stiff hand to Yonten.

"Hey," she said bluntly. "So. I'm Toph Beifong, by the way. You might have heard of me. Greatest Earthbender in the world. Inventor of Metalbending. Kind of a big deal... Sorry I pounded you earlier. I'll try not to do it again, but I can't make any promises."

Even in the darkness, Katara could see the Airbender's face flush bright crimson, all the way up to his arrow. He shook her hand awkwardly.

"Uh… th-thanks?" he stammered. "It's nice to – "

"Yeah, whatever," Toph cut him off with a wave of her hand, and turned to Katara. "So?"

Katara exhaled wearily, massaging the stress out of her eyelids. "It's pretty bad," she admitted. "But I think he'll be okay, once I work on him a little more."

As if the Earthbender had been holding her breath until that moment, Toph released an enormous sigh of relief. Sokka approached them, cradling the sleeping Ursa in his arms.

"But," Katara continued, slowly and miserably, "he needs to get somewhere safe, where he can recover in peace. And he needs to get there fast."

"We were on our way to the Fire Nation," Toph said. "Maybe it's not the safest place in the world, but – "

"Zuko and Suki are there," Sokka nodded. "They can keep an eye on him. Anyway, it's not like _anywhere _is totally safe right now. The Fire Nation sounds like Iroh's best bet."

Katara nodded, and Sokka could see her wincing, as if something was burning her.

Indeed, something was: that small, accursed truth that she'd been struggling to ignore up till now, that she now had no other choice but to acknowledge. It scorched her from deep inside, even as she fought to accept it, swallow it, force it down. She'd been aware of it all the while as she'd examined Iroh, but had pushed it aside. Now, of course, there was no pushing it aside. She knew it had to be this way. She didn't want to be selfish. But nevertheless, for a few moments all she could see in her mind was a daydream dissolving; her hope vanishing, falling into the waters of the Spirit Oasis, slipping out of her grasp forever.

She reached into her pocket and clutched the betrothal necklace fiercely, and breathed against the stabbing pain.

"The fastest way is on Appa," she murmured at last, and even as she spoke them the words seemed to slice her relentlessly. "It's also the safest. And it'll be a lot smoother of a ride for Uncle… Appa's had a good rest today. He should be able to carry us all back."

Yonten started, alarmed. "Katara, no!" he protested urgently. "We don't have time to go back to the Fire Nation! You must get to the North Pole by the Solstice – that's only three weeks from now!"

Toph frowned. "Wait – what's so special about the Solstice?"

Katara feared that she was going to crumble to pieces if she wasn't careful. Though she struggled to reply, she couldn't bring herself to speak. So Sokka answered for her.

"Well," he sighed, frustrated and conflicted, "according to… someone… if she doesn't save Aang by the Solstice, then he'll be too far gone in the Spirit World to be brought back."

Cocking an incredulous eyebrow, Toph crossed her arms irritably. "Well!" she scoffed, "that's _curiously_ inconvenient, isn't it? Any reason why we didn't get this message till the _last possible minute_?" Her blind eyes glowered vaguely in the direction of Yonten.

The Airbender shrugged, throwing up his hands nervously. "It isn't my fault! I came as soon as I was told," he maintained. "I don't know why the spirits took so long."

"Probably to cause us trouble," Sokka growled. "Because it can never just be easy, can it?"

"And I don't get it," Toph snapped fiercely. "Why is it that after five years, Aang's totally fine? But after the Solstice – nope! Too late! What, is that his expiration date or something?"

"Yes," Yonten nodded earnestly.

Toph sent a stony expression his way. He flushed again, shifting his feet awkwardly.

"I mean… essentially," he muttered.

She arched her eyebrows. "You're not really the type who _gets _sarcasm, are you, pipsqueak?"

Meanwhile, Sokka was observing his sister worriedly – she was shattering before his eyes.

"Katara," he said gently after a moment, "You can't waste any more time. You've -" He hesitated a bit, clenching his teeth with detestation at the suggestion even as it came out of his mouth. "You've got to take Appa and go on to the North Pole yourself. You can – you can take Yonten with you. He'll help you with whatever you need. Toph and I will make sure that Uncle and Ursa get to the Fire Nation safely."

"_No_." Katara's voice thundered, and her blue eyes blazed with fierce resolve. "Uncle still needs me to heal him. And both of them need to get there as quickly and safely as possible. That means on Appa. I won't leave anyone behind. And anyway – "

Something strangled in her throat for a moment, and she gave Sokka an aching, beseeching look.

"Anyway, I'm _not _going to go alone, Sokka," she went on, her voice cracking painfully. "I can't. I need you with me, and Toph. Both of you. Yonten just – he just wouldn't be enough." She glanced at the Airbender with a trace of embarrassment. "No offense."

Yonten bowed his head slightly. "No, I understand completely," he said softly.

"Well, maybe we can take Iroh with us," Sokka suggested feebly. "And you can heal him on the way?"

"I'm not dragging a dying old man to the North Pole with me!" Katara cried.

Toph flinched at the word _dying_. "Hey, shut up!" she hissed at Katara, a little more harshly than she intended. "It's - I mean, you'll wake up Ursa."

Katara lowered her voice, and turned back to Sokka. "It won't work, Sokka. It has to be this way."

She and Sokka examined each other for a moment, unspoken words passing through their eyes. Sokka's face was hard as stone, but his heart was breaking for her.

"We still have three weeks till the Solstice," Katara pointed out at last, with faint hope. "It'll only take a week to get back to the Fire Nation. And Appa could probably get us to the North Pole from there in about... ten days? Right? So, really, this'll only set us back about a week, maybe a little more. There will still be time. We can still make it in time."

"Yeah, if we fly Appa till he's exhausted," Sokka pointed out, reluctant to injure her hope, but certainly not pleased with the idea of running Appa into the ground.

"We have to try, Sokka," Katara insisted. "There's no other choice. Appa can make it."

"I think Appa would want to try," Toph suggested quietly after a moment of thought. "You know, if he could talk. He'd do anything for Aang."

Sokka glanced at Toph, then back at his sister. Her hope was so fragile; she was clinging to it with every ounce of her strength. Meanwhile Aang himself was beginning to feel more and more like a ghost, a spectral vision that grew fainter and fainter by the second. Slipping steadily through her fingers – through all of their fingers.

There was no other choice.

At last, he sighed. "All right," he said. "Then we need to get going right away. There's no time to waste. Come on, Toph, let's wake up Appa. Back to the Fire Nation we go."

* * *

><p><em>Not sure when the next chapter will be coming, but hopefully it won't be too long! <em>_In the meantime, reviews are much appreciated, as always. _:D


	21. One Step Ahead

_Ha, so, I guess I ruined my two-chapters-in-one-day awesomeness by taking forever to post this one. Sorry... *hangs head in shame* _

_See, I just got a new drawing tablet for my birthday, and got kinda distracted playing around with that, for like a month. Also, this chapter was freakishly hard to write, for some reason... Yay, excuses!_

_Never fear, though. I promised I'd finish this crazy story, and I definitely will. I just can't promise that it will happen quickly... Especially now that school is starting, there may be some pretty big waits between chapters. But I'll do my best! And luckily, I've actually got some HUGE portions of the ending chapters written already. (Yeah, I sometimes have trouble actually writing _in order_, especially when I get to the middle of the story. I get impatient to get to the end... It's one of my unfortunate flaws as a writer. That, and being bad at titles). One thing I gotta say, though, the ending of this story is going to be SO WORTH IT! I can't wait! Tee-hee! :D_

_On the bright side, I made some silly Avatar comics! If anyone wants to see them, I'm Dachusblot on DeviantArt. I'll maybe put the link in my profile (or maybe I already did? Eh, whatever). But you probably just want to get to the story, so... ONWARD!_

_P.S. Thanks again for the reviews, everyone! They always make my day! :D_

* * *

><p><strong>ONE STEP AHEAD<strong>

"Fire Lord Zuko, my men have secured the chamber."

Zuko nodded wordlessly at the captain of the guards, who bowed to him and assumed his post by the great doors. The young Fire Lord himself sat, back rigid and eyes severe, at the head of the low table that had been moved into the throne room. The empty throne loomed behind him, and before him around the table sat his twenty-six most trusted advisors, generals and Fire Sages. Suki sat on his left side, Tenzin on his right. And more than four dozen guards stood alert, only shoulder-width apart, all around the perimeter of the room.

"I'm sure you all know why I've gathered you here," Zuko began, addressing the twenty-six men and women arranged at the long table. Many of them were twice his age, or older – yet all of their eyes were fixed on him with solemn respect. "Since the attack a few nights ago, my sister, ex-Princess Azula, has disappeared. Captain Ji and his guards have conducted a thorough search of the palace and the city, but so far she's evaded capture."

"Then we ought to search again," demanded Hazu, one of Zuko's generals. "We should _keep_ searching. She can't evade capture forever!"

"Unfortunately, General Hazu," Zuko replied gravely, "I'm afraid she probably can. She knows the palace inside and out, and she's more cunning than you can imagine, as well as ruthless – especially when she has a goal to achieve. Nothing will stop her."

"Fire Lord Zuko," said the head of the Fire Sages, a wizened old man named Take, stroking his beard pensively. "You know your sister better than any of us. What do you believe her next move will be?"

Zuko paused for a moment. Suki watched him closely, a shrewd spark flashing briefly in her eyes.

"More than anything," Zuko said, his words slow and calculated, "Azula wants power. The throne is her final objective, in theory, but I think that even she doesn't really want it at this point. The kind of power she wants now is the power to make us fear her – she won't just kill us to clear a way to her goal. Ultimately, _we _are her goal. She wants to rule us through terror, until she's broken us down completely."

"So," asked Ma Ten, another of the generals. "You don't believe she'll attack us directly, then?"

"No, she'll definitely attack again," Suki interjected. "Probably soon. And any of us in this palace may be a target."

"What I meant was," Zuko corrected himself, "her ultimate goal is _me_. She wants to rule _me_ through terror. In the meantime, she's not going to try to kill me. But anyone who is around me – especially someone close to me – is in serious danger. That includes anyone in this room. _Anyone_."

Tenzin, sitting beside Zuko, fidgeted nervously. He was feeling uncomfortable and anxious, and yearned to move around. The older peoples' conversation was beyond him, and this room was stuffy and dull. Besides that, every now and then one of the council members would glance at him, and it made him feel very uneasy.

"We can try to set up a decoy," suggested General Hazu after a somber pause. "Lure her into a trap, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid she's too smart for that," Zuko sighed. "No matter how clever we are, she'll always be one step ahead. And I won't put anyone's life at risk for the sake of trying to capture her."

"If we could somehow get inside her mind," mused Ganlin, Zuko's advisor in domestic policy. "Think the way she thinks. We could predict what she'll do and use that to our advantage."

Zuko shook his head. "It's no use," he said. "Like I said, she's too smart. All we can do now is try to keep everyone as safe as possible. I've discussed the matter already with Suki, and she agrees… I must leave the Fire Nation as soon as possible. One of you will have to rule in my stead, until I can return safely."

There was a collective uproar at this suggestion. General Hazu actually leaped to his feet.

"Fire Lord Zuko!" he protested. "If you run, you'll only be doing exactly what she wants! Wouldn't it make more sense to stay here and make a stand against her?"

"I agree with General Hazu," old Take nodded sternly. "It seems foolish to run. Azula will only follow you wherever you go. I suggest you stay in the palace where we can all keep a close watch on you."

There were loud mutterings of agreement all around the table. Zuko's eyes briefly darted at Suki, and some kind of understanding flashed between them, so quick as to be almost imperceptible. Zuko rose to his feet and raised his hands to silence the room.

"As long as I'm in the palace," he said, his voice booming with authority, "everyone here is in danger. Azula will continue lurking in the shadows, hunting us all and spreading terror. If I leave, everyone will be safer. And I won't be in any more danger outside the palace than I would be inside."

Everyone watched him in unhappy silence. Zuko glanced down at Tenzin for a moment.

"More importantly," he went on, "Azula has specifically threatened Tenzin's life, and as long as he stays here, he'll be in more serious danger than any of us. I will _not _allow anything to happen to him. Tenzin needs to get out of this palace, as soon as possible, and I won't leave him alone."

"But Fire Lord Zuko – " General Hazu protested again, but Zuko interrupted him.

"No, Hazu," the young Fire Lord said severely. "I know you're all worried about me. But what's most important at the moment is protecting Tenzin. Above all else, it's crucial that he remains out of harm's way."

"My lord," General Ashiro, one of the youngest members of the group, spoke up suddenly from the far end of the table. "Forgive me, but I really must disagree. I mean, I understand that your son is very precious to you. But it seems to me that – "

"He's not my son, General," Zuko said, soft and blunt.

The room fell dead silent instantly. Tenzin blushed faintly as everyone's eyes fell first on him, then on Zuko, then on anything else in the room they could find to stare at. Suki watched the awkward glances that bounced back and forth between the Sages, the advisors, the generals. Several of the guards around the room were darting their eyes shiftily amongst themselves as well. Most of the guards knew of Tenzin's true parentage, and had kept it quiet for years. But Suki knew – as everyone did – that Ashiro's small slip of the tongue had just exposed an assumption that every single one of the council members, all twenty-six of them, had made long ago but never spoken of.

Zuko finally broke the silence, and his voice was calm and understanding.

"I know, up until now, that most of you must have believed Tenzin to be my son," he said quietly, "though you've all been courteous enough never to say so aloud, and I thank you for that. I also apologize if any of you feel I've deceived you. It was his mother's request that Tenzin's true identity remain secret, for his own safety."

"But – " General Ma Ten muttered tentatively, "why?"

"Then whose son _is _he?" asked another of the Sages, a woman named Ta Ling.

But Zuko ignored them, turning back to Ashiro with a respectful nod. "I interrupted you, General. Please, continue."

The young general looked utterly mortified by his slip up, and bowed his head humbly. "I… I sincerely apologize, Fire Lord Zuko," he stammered. "I meant no disrespect – "

"I know that," Zuko said. "It's all right. Go on."

"Well," Ashiro hesitated, "I completely understand your sentiments about keeping the boy safe. I'd also hate for any harm to come to him. But regardless… I still feel very strongly that protecting _you _must be our top priority. You are the Fire Lord, after all. The world _needs_ you."

Zuko did not reply for several minutes. He closed his eyes.

"The world needs Tenzin as well," he finally declared, boldly, as if he'd just made up his mind about something.

Everyone at the table all furrowed their brows at Zuko, perplexed. Suki frowned suddenly, glancing at him in uneasy curiosity.

"Sir?" Ashiro asked.

Tenzin stared at Zuko, unsure of what exactly was happening. For a small moment, Zuko glanced down at him and gave him a reassuring smile. Zuko didn't look at Suki, though he could feel her eyes probing him.

He took a deep breath, his eyes carefully scanning every expectant member of his council.

"I remind you all," he said solemnly, "that you are sworn to secrecy. What you are about to see must never leave this room."

Quietly, he turned once more to Tenzin.

"Tenzin," he whispered, so that only the little Airbender would hear, "why don't you show everyone what you can do with the air?"

Tenzin's eyes darted anxiously around the room, at all the old people staring at him. He gulped.

"But – " he said, "momma says I'm not supposed to…"

"Zuko," Suki spoke up suddenly, her voice quiet and hard, "I don't think Katara would be comfortable with – "

"Comfortable?" Zuko turned and gave her a stern look. "This isn't about _comfort_, Suki. This is about keeping Tenzin alive, no matter what. Katara would understand."

He looked back at Tenzin, gently placing a hand on the boy's small shoulder.

"Go on, Tenzin," he said. "It's okay."

Tenzin stared at him for a minute, breathing nervously, then slowly rose to his feet. Every eye in the room was fixed on him as, little hands shaking, he raised his arms and held them in front of him. There, he paused, as if he was unsure what exactly he was attempting to do. Finally, closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and rapidly spun his hands in a wide circle.

A feeble, rather clumsy whirlwind rolled from Tenzin down the length of the table, stirring everyone's hair and clothes. After a few seconds, the spiraling wind current dissolved and the air settled again. Tenzin blushed, and everyone gaped at him in astonishment.

"Sorry," he mumbled shyly at Zuko, hastily sitting down again. "That wasn't very good."

Zuko gave him a quick smile and ruffled his hair. "It was perfect. Thank you, Tenzin."

Every pair of eyes at the table was glued to Tenzin in disbelief. Perplexed and amazed grunts, murmurs and stutters buzzed among the council members, but for the most part everyone was too dumbfounded to speak.

Zuko addressed them all in his sternest, most authoritative tone of voice.

"Tenzin is the son of Avatar Aang," he announced, "and one of the last Airbenders remaining in this world. As far as we're concerned here, he is _the _last Airbender. For the sake of preserving the Airbender race, I command all of you to make Tenzin's safety your highest concern from this moment forward. Yes, General Ashiro – " Zuko nodded at the young general – "even above my own safety. Understood?"

Ashiro's mouth was hanging open. But after a moment he blinked, and then nodded respectfully.

"I understand, Fire Lord Zuko," he said.

For several moments, everyone stared at Zuko and Tenzin in heavy silence.

"So," General Hazu finally broke the silence. "Where will you go?"

Zuko glanced momentarily at Suki, who nodded. He took a deep breath.

"In a few days," he said, "Tenzin, Suki and I will board a ship headed for the southern Earth Kingdom. I'd like you to provide a secure military escort for us, General Hazu. Can you organize your soldiers in that time?"

"It's short notice," Hazu nodded, "but I'll muster my best soldiers immediately. You'll have the most secure escort in the Fire Nation, my lord, I promise."

"Thank you," Zuko replied. "In the meantime, I'll appoint a regent from among the rest of you to serve in my place until I return. I'd like you all to discuss the matter carefully with each other and choose who you believe to be the best candidate. The rest will remain here while I'm gone, to assist the regent and provide extra security."

Several of the council members glanced at one another anxiously.

"And when do you suppose you'll return, Fire Lord?" asked Take.

Zuko hesitated. "I don't know," he admitted. "As soon as possible."

"And…" Take's voice was barely audible; he fixed Zuko with a serious, almost paternal look. "And – if you – _don't _return?"

Once again, a heavy silence flooded the throne room. All eyes turned to Zuko, as the true gravity of the situation fell upon them all with full force.

Zuko looked at each of them, one by one, his heart palpitating slightly. Then he turned to Suki, who tried to look encouraging; last, to Tenzin, who was merely gazing at him, his wide blue eyes brimming with a heartbreaking mixture of pleading helplessness, nervous trust, and hopeful admiration.

Zuko closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his resolve.

"Well," he finally said, "we'll have to prepare for that, too. And until we leave, obviously, these matters are not to be discussed outside of this room – especially the location where we'll be headed. I don't think I need to explain to anyone here how important it is that Azula knows as little about these plans as possible."

"Will we be able to keep her from finding out?" Ashiro asked, his voice thick with anxiety. "You said yourself, she's always one step ahead."

"Then we're just going to have to be extra careful where we step, General," Zuko replied coolly.

* * *

><p><em>So, dear brother. It's to be a chase after all, is it? How invigorating. <em>

Azula slinked through the narrow palace corridors, silent as the shadows – almost a shadow herself.

_I know you're not really this stupid, Zuko. This is much too easy. I know you're not just going to run - not without trying some trick to throw me off your scent. _

_So what's your real plan, hm? What's your secret trick__? Where are you _really_ going?_

Her fingers slid lightly over the thick stones of the walls. She passed through many halls, like a nightmare, searching for someone to haunt. She knew the Fire Palace well – every door and every window and every crack in the stones. This was her home, after all. She knew all the hidden places, between the walls and behind the doors, in the distant corners where no one's eyes ever thought to fall. And she could slip in and out of the hidden places, there and gone, so quickly that even if you caught sight of her, you would doubt that you'd seen anything at all.

But she wasn't a ghost, and she wasn't a nightmare. She was as real as anyone else, and her heart pounded with exhilaration at the thrill of not being seen.

_Do you really think you belong here, Zuzu?_

_You stole the throne from me – yet you leave it empty, and you keep the wall of flames unlit. You know you don't belong there. You know that it should have been mine. You know that you stole it from me._

_You think the throne belongs to you. You think this palace is your birthright._

_But do you know this palace the way I do? Do you know how to vanish into the walls like I do? Do you know the secret places? Do you?_

Down the hall from Zuko's bedroom door, Azula stopped, pressing herself against the wall, breathing. Waiting. Twirling a small knife between her fingers: a knife with an inscription on the back. She'd taken it from Uncle's tea shop, back when there still _was _a tea shop. She took it, because she remembered it. It was Zuko's knife. Uncle had given it to him, when they were kids, as a present from Ba Sing Se. Uncle had given _her _a ridiculous doll. She'd burned the doll. She wanted the knife.

So she took the knife.

She remembered it. Her mind was still intact, you see. Fully functional. Perfectly sharp. She wouldn't have remembered the knife otherwise. Of course not.

She twirled the knife anxiously.

_You think I'm mad – _

_Vengeful, yes, I'll admit that. Cunning. Ruthless – most definitely ruthless. But mad?_

_Could I have evaded your idiot guards, if I was mad? _

_Could I have broken into your precious little boy's bedroom? _

_Would I be sneaking maneuvering waiting watching hunting – so skillfully - so flawlessly – if I was mad? _

_Would a mad woman wait, and wait, until the proper moment? Would I? Am I mad, Zuzu? Am I?_

There were about a dozen guards posted outside the bedroom doors. Azula watched them. They didn't watch her, because they couldn't see her. She was invisible.

Zuko had gone into the room an hour ago, and had yet to emerge. He'd gone in with the little Airbender boy, and about a dozen more guards, and the Kyoshi Warrior. Ever since her failed attack on the boy, they'd all slept in the same place, in Zuko's bedroom, heavily guarded, just to be safe.

It didn't matter. Now was the time to wait.

_Where's your little blue-eyed whore, Zuzu? Has she run off and left you, just like your mother did? Are you really that surprised?_

_Is that where you're planning to go? Following after her? Pathetic. But predictable._

_Are you going to lead me to her? I bet you will, won't you?_

_She's the one who put me in chains, not you. Don't think I've forgotten. Don't think I'll give her an easy death, like the one I gave Mai. Mai was nothing but a fool. The Water Tribe girl is…_

_She will die in chains. Slowly. Chained down and powerless. Begging for her life. Begging for her sweet little boy's life._

_And this time, you'll get to watch it all, Zuzu! No behind-the-scenes action, like Mai's death. No shocking discovery of the aftermath. No – hers will be center stage. Just for you._

Azula inhaled slowly, steadying her anxious hands.

Moonlight flooded into the corridor from the tall windows on the wall opposite Azula. The gauzy curtains danced in the cool night breeze. Azula waited, and savored the breeze on her skin, and the feeling of the smooth stone wall on her back. She twirled the knife, and waited.

_Overthrow me – put me in chains – lock me away – pretend I never existed – erase me from your memory, like a stain on your clothes – _

_Is that what I am to you, now? Your crazy little sister? A stain – a memory you wish had never happened?_

_But you can't erase me. You can't forget me. I won't be forgotten._

_You thought you won. You think you're very impressive, don't you? You think that you have the power now. But you don't._

_Because you fear me._

_Who really has the power here, Zuzu? The one who has the throne – or the one who can make you take off running with your tail between your legs?_

_You're nothing but my puppet, dear brother. I pull the strings. I say run – you run – and I chase. _

_You may think you're in control. You may think you're better than me. But look at what's happening here: I am the predator, you are the prey. _

_And in my experience, it's always better to be the predator. Wouldn't you agree?_

The moon slipped behind a thick layer of clouds. Darkness filled the corridors. Azula moved to strike.

But the bedroom door opened suddenly –

She retreated, slipping into a crevice behind a nearby column, fidgeting impatiently with the knife. No, it wasn't the right time, yet. Not now. Now was the time to wait and listen.

The red-haired Kyoshi Warrior emerged from the bedroom in a cloak – as if _that_ would conceal her – and glanced around the corridor stealthily, fingers poised on her ridiculous fan-weapon. She whispered something to the guards, and they nodded. Then she took off swiftly and silently down the hall, followed by five guards, right past Azula's hiding place, never suspecting that one of the shadows she passed was not a shadow at all.

Azula waited – then followed.

Near the entrance to the little boy's bedroom, now vacant (and still quite demolished from the excitement of Azula's last appearance), the Kyoshi Warrior and her entourage of guards stopped. The guards began to search the hall, checking the hidden places, making sure everything was secure.

Azula made herself invisible again. She passed into a side chamber, and climbed nimbly between two columns up to the ceiling, where she perched breathlessly until the guards had come and gone, declaring that all was clear.

Then, smothering a small laugh of delight, heart racing with the excitement of it all, Azula leaped lightly down and began to listen.

She heard more footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, booted feet. One of the councilors, no doubt, coming to meet with the Kyoshi Warrior in secret.

"General Ma Ten," the Kyoshi's Warrior's hasty whisper reached Azula's ears. "You're sure you weren't followed?"

"Absolutely certain," said General Ma Ten in a hush. "What was it you needed to see me about?"

"I have a message from Fire Lord Zuko. He wants you to prepare a small, secure ship, with as many trained soldiers as you can muster. On the day of our departure, we'll take off on General Hazu's ship, acting as if we're headed for the southern Earth Kingdom. You are to meet up with us ten miles out of the city. Get your ship and your soldiers, and take off from a different port - somewhere far away, preferably. You can choose any port you want, as long as it's far and discreet. All you have to do is be there when we get ten miles out. Can you do that?"

The General paused for a moment. "So, you will _not _be fleeing to the southern Earth Kingdom, then?"

"No. We'll sneak aboard your ship, and you'll escort us to the royal family's old vacation home in Ember Island."

Azula had to stop herself from laughing aloud.

"Ember Island?" asked the General. "But – so close by?"

"Exactly."

The Kyoshi Warrior sounded so _pleased_ with herself. Azula blazed, fingers aching to rip her pretty auburn hair right out of her head. Azula began to subconsciously pull and tear at her own hair instead, biting her lip as she listened.

"Azula will never expect us to hide somewhere so close," the Kyoshi Warrior went on, in that infuriatingly smug tone. "She'll expect us to run far away. In the meantime, she'll follow us onto General Hazu's ship, thinking we're going to the southern Earth Kingdom. And Hazu will be ready to capture her as soon as we've made our escape."

"I understand," the General said softly. "Tell Fire Lord Zuko that I'll be fully prepared to help you sneak away to Ember Island on the day of the escape."

"Thank you. And, of course – "

"Yes, I know. I'll be as silent as possible about these plans. Azula will never find out a thing."

"Good. Thank you, General."

A moment later, both parties turned and departed the way they'd come, and the corridor fell silent once more. Hidden away in the side chamber, Azula leaned against the door for a moment and allowed herself a soft chuckle.

_You think I'm a fool, eh, Zuzu? You think I'm mad? Out of my mind? You think you'll trip me up, catch me in your little trap? You think you'll take me by surprise? _

_Well – we'll see who's surprised, won't we? We'll see who's really mad, won't we?_

"Azula."

Azula opened her eyes. There, on the opposite side of the chamber, standing beside an open window, with the moonlight pouring over her shoulder, was her mother. Lady Ursa of the Fire Nation. Her robes were some unusual foreign style that Azula didn't recognize, and her dark brown hair was streaked with gray. But it was her. She gazed at Azula with wide, almost frightened eyes.

"Oh, it's you," Azula scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What do _you _want?"

For some reason, Lady Ursa seemed rather taken aback by that.

"That's all?" she whispered, frowning in uneasy bewilderment. "Really? I wasn't expecting you to be happy to see me, but I did think you'd at least be a little… _surprised_."

"I've been seeing you for years," Azula shrugged apathetically. "Why would I be surprised now?"

Lady Ursa stepped forward cautiously, reaching out towards Azula with shaking fingers – as if she feared Azula was a wild animal who might bite her fingers off.

"Azula, sweetheart – "

Azula scowled and turned away. "Leave me alone, mother. I'm busy."

The woman was actually crying now. _Unbelievable_. She put her hand to her mouth shakily. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Oh, stop pretending like you actually care." Azula rolled her eyes at her again.

"Azula, whatever it is you're doing, you have to stop!" she begged. "I don't know what's happened to you, but you need help. I want to help you – "

She was coming far too close now. Azula whirled savagely and pointed the knife at her.

"I don't need your 'help'!" she spat viciously. "You don't really want to help me. You just want to stop me, that's all. You want to put me in chains and shut me away, too. You want to pretend I never existed, just like the rest of them. You've always wanted to – you always wished I'd never existed. You were the first one who did."

"Azula – " Lady Ursa breathed.

"And I know why," Azula went on wildly. "I know why. Because I scared you. Because you feared me – you fear me right now, don't you? Me and my knife. You're not sure what I'll do, are you? What I'm capable of? Of course not. You won't stop me, and you won't come near me now, because you're afraid. Which means I'm the one in control. _I _am, and you can't stand that. Can you?"

"Please, don't – "

"Well, see, mother?" she smirked coldly. "See, you were right about me all along. I _am _a monster. I simply decided to embrace it, that's all."

Lady Ursa stopped trying to speak to her. She merely stood there, gazing at her, with horror and heartbreak in her eyes.

Azula scoffed at her disgustedly. "You're pathetic," she muttered. "Now, stop bothering me. I'm kind of in the middle of something."

And with that, Azula slipped out of the room and into the shadows of the corridor once more, vanishing into the hidden places like the powerful nightmare she knew she was.

* * *

><p>Deep in the bowels of the Dragon Bone Catacombs, Zuko let his fingers drift pensively over the shelf of dusty scrolls that lined the far wall of the chamber dedicated to his great-grandfather, Sozin. A small part of the history of his country, and his family – great accomplishments and horrific crimes, progress and conquest, discoveries and massacres, pride and shame, all inextricably jumbled together – filled those scrolls. So much, contained in such a small space. Zuko glanced up at the massive dragon statue that hovered above the shelf, and grimaced subconsciously.<p>

Behind him, he heard a muffled burst of fire, and the door of the chamber slid slowly open. One of the Fire Sages' apprentices – a fairly young, nervous looking man – stepped through the open doorway and bowed respectfully to the Fire Lord. After him came Suki, covertly slipping inside. The apprentice exited the room after Suki had entered, and shut the door, leaving the two of them alone.

"You're _sure _there's no way for Azula to get in here?" Suki whispered cautiously.

"Positive," Zuko nodded. "We're deep underground, and the only entrance is the one you just came through. And the walls are thick enough down here that no one will overhear us – not even that guy outside the door."

Suki breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly got down to business – but she still couldn't help speaking in a cautious hush. "I just got done speaking with General Ma Ten. Everything's going to be arranged. Just like we talked about."

"Good."

Suki paused. "Do you think she was listening?"

He glanced at her gravely. "She's always listening."

She couldn't argue with that.

"And even if she wasn't," Zuko went on, "she'll figure I'm not stupid enough to just plain _run _and hope that she won't follow. She'll be expecting us to give her the slip somehow."

"Right." Suki blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "So, I've done my little performance. Now what's the _actual _plan, Zuko?"

"Just like I told Tenzin," he replied quietly. "We're gonna get him back to his mother. We'll follow Katara and Sokka."

"To the North Pole?"

"That's right."

"Really?" Suki crossed her arms, frowning at him reluctantly. "Are you sure that's the best idea, Zuko?"

Zuko looked at her, and a brief flash of hesitation passed over his expression. "I've thought about it a lot, Suki. I can't think of anything better. Why? Do you not think it's a good idea?"

She studied him for a moment, a small knot of discomfort twisting in her stomach. There was something in his eyes – a kind of desperation, simmering grief and helplessness, lurking below the façade of confidence he was trying so hard to maintain. He was smothering it with all his might; but it was there, waiting to erupt at any moment. And because of that, she hated to discourage him; he _needed _to go. He needed Katara, most of all. Suki knew, after the news of what Azula had done to Uncle and Ursa, Katara and Tenzin were the only two people left in the world that he could truly call _family_; the only two people who could keep him from falling into despair completely. But at the same time, she felt obligated to be honest, considering the situation. It was precarious, and Zuko shouldn't let his own tumultuous feelings determine their course of action.

But then again - Zuko was precarious himself right now, and she couldn't afford to have him fall apart. The situation with Azula was difficult enough as it was; she could never handle it alone. Maybe, more than anything, Zuko just needed the _hope _of seeing Katara again: something to look forward to, to hold on to, while he fought away his grief. If he didn't have that...

Suki growled a little in frustration. She had been wishing - with steadily increasing fervor over the past few days - that Sokka hadn't run off to the North Pole with his sister. She would have given anything to have him there at that moment. He'd left Momo behind, of course. But Momo wasn't particularly helpful in this kind of predicament. He was only good for a comforting snuggle, and even then only when _he _felt like it.

After a long silence, she finally just sighed and shrugged. "I don't know," she murmured, glancing at him hesitantly. "Zuko, I've been meaning to ask… Are you – are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied curtly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just – " She wasn't exactly sure where her boundary was; her relationship with Zuko had always been one more of trusted colleagues than close friends. But at the moment, she was all he had. "After what happened, if you – if you need to talk about it. You know, about… Uncle and Ursa – "

"Talking's not gonna change anything!" he snapped bitterly – the words burst from him like a crack of lightning, and for a moment his face broke into a grimace of anguish, as if he'd been stabbed straight through the heart. But he shut his eyes, breathed slowly, and collected himself again.

"I'm sorry," he murmured fiercely. "But I can't – it's… That doesn't matter right now."

"Zuko – " she tried again, cautiously.

"_No_, Suki," he growled. "There'll be time to talk later. Right now, we have to focus on the problem at hand. And that's of getting Tenzin – and ourselves – out of here without Azula following, and catching up with Katara and Sokka as soon as possible."

Suki didn't reply for a while. But she studied him regretfully, wishing she could help him somehow, wishing that he wouldn't push all his grief aside like this. It wasn't healthy; but there was nothing she could do about it. At last, she sighed.

"Zuko," she said cautiously. "I'm really not sure it's the best idea to try to chase down Sokka and Katara. I mean, I know you're going through a rough time right now and you'd feel a lot better if Katara was – "

"I'm _fine_, Suki," he interrupted her severely. His amber eyes were hard as stone.

"Right," she sighed sadly. "You're fine. You said that. But still… wouldn't we just be putting _them _in possible danger by trying to catch up to them? No offense, Zuko, but – it just seems kinda… not smart."

"Tenzin needs to be with his mother," Zuko shook his head stubbornly. "He'd be much safer with her around. And all of us would stand a better chance against Azula if we were together. Don't you think so, Suki?"

"Yeah," Suki agreed reluctantly. "I guess you're right."

Even so, a small part of her couldn't help but suddenly wonder if he wasn't still hoping to talk Katara out of trying to rescue Aang - but she pushed that thought aside. It wasn't fair to Zuko, to assume that about him.

"And anyway," Zuko went on, his voice adamant and solemn. "Azula's not _going_ to follow us. If we play our cards right, she won't have any idea where we've gone." He glanced sidelong at her after a moment. "You haven't mentioned to anyone where Katara was headed, have you?"

"No," Suki shook her head. "No one knows except Tenzin. And I already warned him never to talk about it to anyone. I'm pretty sure he's smart enough and scared enough to keep his mouth shut."

"Good." He breathed deeply and ran his fingers pensively through his long, black hair. "None of my councilors know, either. They don't even know that I'm planning to follow Katara at all, much less where she's actually going. It'll have to be that way. No one can know. It's too risky, otherwise."

"Okay," Suki nodded, scrutinizing him carefully. "But the real question is, how do we get away without Azula finding out where we're going? Like you said, she's always listening. We've got the decoy with General Ma Ten in place, and she'll expect that we're gonna give her the slip. But, what next? How do we get away?"

"We're going to give her the slip, exactly the way we said we would."

Suki frowned, baffled. "But - that's what she expects us to do."

"Yep."

"So… we're just gonna do what she expects us to do?"

"Yep."

"Uh, Zuko… How is this a good plan?"

Zuko gazed up at Sozin's dragon statue in contemplation for a moment. "You know how at the meeting today, Ganlin said that we needed to get inside her mind, try to predict what she's thinking?" he said quietly. "Well, that's what I've been doing these past few days. And here's what I think: Azula underestimates me. She always has. But she also knows I'm not a complete idiot. She thinks that she's got me all figured out, so the best way to catch her off guard would be to play into that. To do _exactly_ what she thinks I'll do – make her confident that she's one step ahead of me. Then go a step further."

"Uh-huh." Suki studied him curiously. "And how do we do that?"

"Well," he said slowly. "We've set up the Ember Island decoy. But you know she's too smart to fall for that unless, when the time comes, we actually go through with it."

"Okay. So?"

He paused, and Suki thought she saw a faint smirk lurking in his expression.

"So we'll go through the motions at first," he said slowly. "Board General Hazu's ship, like we're heading for the Earth Kingdom, just like we said we were at the meeting. Then slip away to General Ma Ten's ship headed for Ember Island, just like Azula thinks we will, thanks to your little performance. At that point, she'll almost without a doubt have followed us onto one of the two ships - probably the Ember Island ship."

"You don't have much confidence in your security, do you?" Suki couldn't help but comment wryly.

"Oh, my security's great," Zuko said, chuckling softly. "But this is _Azula_ we're dealing with. You know, no matter how careful we are, she'll _find _a way to get on that ship, somehow. She does that."

"Yeah, she does," Suki sighed wearily.

"So, anyway, we'll go through the motions, like we're giving her the slip and sneaking off to Ember Island. But then, without anyone knowing, we'll sneak out of _that_ ship, and head for Fire Fountain City, where General Ashiro will have secured a merchant freighter to take us to the North Pole."

"So," Suki said quietly, "a _double_-slip."

"That's the idea."

"Interesting. But complicated."

"Well, that's kinda the point," Zuko nodded. "The more complicated it is, the easier it'll be for us to throw her off the trail." Definitely smirking – he seemed rather proud of himself.

"_Interesting_," Suki remarked again, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "And I assume that both General Hazu and General Ma Ten will be prepared to capture Azula, no matter which ship she tries to follow?"

"Right. Of course, there's always the chance that she won't follow either one, and will just be left behind here - "

"Not likely."

"I know, but there's a chance. In which case, Captain Ji and his guards will hopefully capture her while we're gone. She may also try to sneak away to Ember Island and be there before we get there - "

"Much _more _likely."

"In which case, I've already got soldiers there as well, waiting for her. And even if she doesn't get caught, she's going to be sadly disappointed when we never arrive, and she realizes that she's lost our trail completely. That's why it's so important that _no one _knows that the North Pole is even a factor here. As long as _we're_ the only two who know where we're going, she'll never be able to guess."

"Okay," she nodded slowly, contemplating. "I'm actually starting to like this plan. There's just one problem, Zuko – well, no, _two _actually. First of all, how will we make sure Azula doesn't find out about the ship in Fire Fountain City?"

"It's already taken care of," Zuko replied coolly. "I sent a hawk out early this morning to the governor of the city, explaining the situation and instructing him to have a merchant freighter ready for when Ashiro gets there ahead of us."

"Uh-huh," Suki frowned. "But what about Ashiro? How will we explain the situation to him without Azula overhearing somehow?"

"Again – already taken care of. Didn't you notice that about half of the council members left the palace earlier this evening?"

"Um," she furrowed her brow. "Yes, but – "

"Well, _I_ sent them out. They're all headed to different major ports with instructions to inform the city officials of our situation, and gather reinforcements to help capture Azula and protect the regent while I'm gone. And I assigned Ashiro to Fire Fountain City. The governor will explain everything to him once he gets there."

Suki raised her eyebrows. She had to admit, she was… _impressed_.

"Okay, Zuko," she said. "I'm beginning to think you might be a little brilliant."

Zuko chuckled. "Thanks."

"Only _one _more problem. A big one."

"What's that?"

"When we pull off the double-slip, how exactly are we going to sneak off the ship headed for Ember Island, and get away to Fire Fountain City, without Azula catching on and following us?"

Zuko paused for a moment, then glanced at her slyly.

"Suki," he began carefully. "Were you at the invasion on the Day of Black Sun?"

She frowned, rather baffled by the question, and then crossed her arms. "Uh, no. No, I was in prison when that happened, thanks to your psychotic sister."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"It's okay. But why do you ask?"

"Well," Zuko started again, "then did Sokka ever tell you how they managed to sneak past the Great Gates of Azulon on that day?"

Suki thought for a moment, trying to remember the details of the story – goodness knows Sokka had told her about it often enough. Suddenly, as the recollection came to her, her eyes widened.

"You mean," she gasped, perplexed. "Wait! But… Zuko? You have a…?"

Zuko was smiling proudly, nodding. "After the war, during some of the, uh, more _tense _periods of the Restoration, I had the Mechanist make me a few of those submarines, just in case I ever needed them for… something."

"You mean, for a war?" She couldn't help but give him a rather scolding look.

"_No!_ – well, yeah. Sort of." He shrugged. "Those were tricky times, Suki. And anyway, I figured submarines could be pretty useful for other things, too. Such as… you know, sneaky underwater escapes."

She smirked slightly, shaking her head. "I'm guessing you never told Aang you had a bunch of secret war submarines hidden away somewhere."

"Uh, no." Zuko shook his head, looking the tiniest bit abashed. "I don't think he would have been very comfortable with the idea. But it's a good thing I have them now. Because we're going to pull the same trick they did on the Day of Black Sun. And if all goes according to plan, it will be just like we vanished into thin air."

Suki just stared at him for a second, a small smile growing on her face.

"I've got to hand it to you, Zuko," she said. "I wasn't so sure about it at first. But this may actually work."

"It _will _work," he insisted, with a determined smile of his own. "It has to."

"I'm… sort of, weirdly, _excited_ about this," she grinned. "Is that weird? I think – whoa, I think I just got a chill! This is going to be kind of – "

"Invigorating." He nodded eagerly. "I know what you mean."

* * *

><p><em>Hm! Will Zuko's brilliant escape plan work?... You'll just have to wait and see! But not in the next chapter. Which will be coming in a few days, hopefully. But don't beat me up if it doesn't. Anyway, reviews fill my heart with warm, fuzzy joy! :D<em>


	22. Back to the Fire Nation

_Hm! Two chapters in two days? Maybe my awesomeness is back! (Now watch me take three months to update again, ha). (Just kidding). (I hope)._

_Right, so... y'know how I said at the beginning of this story that it's become so complicated I forget it's a fanfic? Yeah, this is one of those chapters. I've done my best, as usual, to make everything as logical in the context of the source material as possible. Hopefully it works! __Also, unlike the previous chapter, this one was somehow freakishly easy to write. Which is weird, cause I expected it to be the other way around. Meh. *shrug*_

_And, I just gotta say, both Toph and Uncle are ridiculously fun to write. I'm so glad I got them in here._

_Well! Moving right along. Aang's expiration date is drawing near, and we're still so far from the North Pole! But be patient, dear friends. A story like this requires... finesse! We shall get there, in due time, and hopefully it will be just exactly as awesome as it's supposed to be. :D_

_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters in this story. No matter how much I think I do._

* * *

><p><strong>BACK TO THE FIRE NATION<strong>

"I don't suppose you have any tea on this bison, do you?"

Katara's face broke into a sudden smile. Iroh had been silent for a long time, dozing beside her in Appa's saddle while she monitored his vital signs and worked gingerly to repair his injuries. She'd been concentrating so seriously that she hadn't noticed him wake up.

"Sorry, Uncle," she chuckled, tucking his blanket in snugly around him. "You'll have to wait till we get to the Fire Nation. And then we'll get Zuko to make you a big pot of piping hot jasmine tea. How's that sound?"

The old man smiled blissfully at the thought, and leaned his head back with a sigh. "Wake me up when we get there."

After several hours of flying, the heavy, silent darkness of night was finally beginning to give way to the dawn. Behind them, the sky was growing faintly pale, anticipating the rising sun, and Katara shivered in the chilly morning wind. Toph and Yonten were both still asleep – Toph snoring loudly and unabashedly, with Ursa curled up under the blanket beside her – and Sokka sat at the reins as usual, releasing probably his twentieth aching yawn in the last ten minutes.

Katara felt herself nodding and blinked forcefully, yawning as well. "Did you want me to fly for a while, Sokka?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm good. Just keep doing your magical healing business."

Rubbing her eyes wearily, Katara turned back to Iroh, who was drifting off again; his expression was surprisingly tranquil, considering their current situation and his own physical condition. But for the time being, he didn't need any more of her magical healing business; he just needed a rest.

Katara needed one as well, but she wouldn't let herself surrender completely to sleep. She couldn't – not right now. Not when Uncle might need her at any moment. Not when Sokka might need someone to take over the reins for him. Not when…

Not when her every waking thought was haunted with the knowledge that they were retracing their steps, that she was currently headed _backwards_ on her journey, rather than forwards. After her last terrible dream about Aang, she couldn't face sleep again; she couldn't bear it. She knew he would be there, waiting for her in her dreams. Now he would know that she wasn't coming for him. He would know that she'd turned her back on him, even though she hadn't had a choice, considering the circumstances – even though it was only temporary, just a minor delay – even though she still had time – there was _still_ time –

She dreaded his disappointment: that this would only confirm to him that she didn't want him after all, that this would only break his heart even more.

But more than that, she was utterly terrified that he would agree, would tell her to forget the journey altogether. To keep going, go back home and stay there, stay with Tenzin and Zuko, and let go of this frantic hope she was clinging to.

She couldn't bear it. Not again. Not from him.

If anyone else in the world had told her to give up, she would have refused without hesitation; she would have only become more determined to save him. But coming from Aang himself –

She couldn't handle that again. She knew she couldn't. And that was why she wouldn't sleep.

Still, she lounged wearily back in the saddle and pulled her blanket around herself with a small shiver, leaning her head on her hand and closing her eyes. She wouldn't sleep; just shut her eyes for a few minutes, that was all. If she felt herself falling too deep into it, she would simply pull herself back out.

It was several minutes later when Katara was pulled back out to full consciousness, but not by her own will. The sky had become a poignant pale gold, as the sun peered over the horizon, and Ursa was awake, tugging at her blanket.

"Aunt Tara?" Ursa whispered.

"Hm… Yeah, sweetie?" she murmured, disoriented from her doze.

The girl looked deeply troubled, and she quietly curled up against Katara's side, slipping under her elbow and wrapping her little arms around Katara's waist. Katara let her own arm rest gently on Ursa's shoulders, and began brushing her fingers through her dark hair soothingly.

"Is Uncle going to die?" she breathed anxiously, fixing her eyes on the slumbering old man.

Out of the corner of her eye, Katara saw Toph tense up. Her blind eyes were still closed as if she were sleeping, but Katara knew she was listening intently.

Katara hesitated for a moment, and squeezed Ursa in a comforting hug. "Oh. No, sweetie," she whispered. "No, Uncle's not going to die. I'm making him all better. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Ursa asked.

"Of course. Don't worry. Uncle's going to be just fine, and you're gonna see your dad soon. And before you know it, everything will go back to just the way it was. Okay?" She brushed Ursa's bangs away and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

A little tear was glistening in the girl's eye, and she wiped it away with a quiet sniffle. "I was so scared when Azula grabbed me," she confessed shakily. "I thought I was gonna die. I really did. I've… I've never thought that before, not for real. It was the worst feeling in the world."

A small surge of anger washed over Katara momentarily; she was still furious about what Azula had done to the two of them. But she swallowed it down for Ursa's sake, and sighed. "I know, sweetheart. It must have been terrible. But you're always safe with us. You know that, right?"

Ursa nodded hesitantly, and didn't speak again for a long while. Then she whispered, almost too soft to hear, "I lost daddy's knife."

"Hm?"

"Remember, the knife dad gave me on my birthday?" She looked up at Katara, her eyes welling up again. "The one he had when he was a kid? Uncle gave it to him when he was little, and then he gave it to me. It said, 'never give up without a fight' on the back. Remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, I remember."

She looked away, biting her lip and struggling not to cry. "I lost it, Aunt Tara. It was in the teashop when Azula blew it up. Now it's gone, forever." Her voice shattered at that last inexorable word, and she shuddered with tears.

Katara held her tight, her own heart breaking. "Oh, sweetheart…"

"I don't know why it makes me so sad," she choked, sobbing.

"Here – you're okay." Katara stroked her hair comfortingly, rocking her. "You're gonna be okay."

Toph had opened her eyes now, and adjusted herself into a slouching position, just listening to their exchange in sorrowful silence.

"Why is Azula so evil?" Ursa demanded, with sudden fierceness.

Katara hesitated again, unsure how exactly to answer, stumbling over a clumsy sense of inadequacy. This always happened with Tenzin's difficult questions, too: the dread of saying something wrong, something that would stay in Ursa's mind forever, possibly changing the way she viewed the world for the rest of her life.

"I don't know, Ursa," Katara admitted at last, carefully. "It's hard to say why some people turn out the way they do. There's a lot of badness in this world, and sometimes terrible things happen for no good reason..." Without warning Katara felt a lump lodge itself in her throat; she could sympathize painfully well with the experience of terrible things that happened for no good reason.

"But," she finally went on, breathing tremulously, "you have to remember to never let those things change who you are. It's easy to let those things fill you up with hate, but you can't give in to that. You've got to be stronger than the badness, and choose to fight for the goodness in the world, and never give up no matter what. Okay?"

Ursa didn't reply for a long time, and her sobs settled down into silence as she wandered in thoughts, staring very hard at a strand of hair she was fondling between her fingers.

"I hate Azula," she declared suddenly.

Katara sighed wearily. "Sweetheart…"

"I – I hope she dies." The words were astonishingly malicious, for someone so young.

"Ursa!" Katara reprimanded her. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Well, she deserves it!" Ursa gazed up at Katara. "Doesn't she?"

"It's – it's not really our place to say who deserves to live or die. None of us should have that power."

Ursa looked away, frowning spitefully. "If the Avatar was still alive, I bet he'd take her out."

"Ursa – " Toph murmured in a cautionary tone.

Katara bit her lip, fighting the sharp pain that shot through her heart at Ursa's words. But she shook her head and gathered herself together. "The Avatar _is _alive, Ursa," she said sternly. "And – and he wouldn't take her out. Trust me."

"But isn't that his job?" Ursa cried, flushing. "To stop evil people who do bad things?"

"It's…" Katara stumbled, flustered, "It's a bit more complicated than that – "

"Azula killed my mom, Aunt Tara!" she exclaimed, trembling with overwhelming rage. "And now she – she almost killed Uncle, and me! She's _evil_! If the Avatar wouldn't take her out then – then he's a bad Avatar!"

"Ursa – !" Toph tried again, more severely.

But Katara snapped. "_Ursa!_ Stop it! You don't understand what you're talking about!"

The little girl gaped at Katara, surprised and dismayed. Her eyes welled with tears again, and her lip quivered; Katara had never shouted at her like that before.

Instantly, Katara was seized with guilt, and she quickly composed herself again, breathing slowly. "I'm so sorry, Ursa," she said. "I didn't mean to yell. It's just…"

Ursa was gazing at her in confusion and misery. Katara unleashed a deep sigh, from the bottom of her exhausted heart, and gave Ursa an earnest, understanding look.

"I actually know exactly how you feel," she confessed. "See, I – I never told you about this before, but… when I was about your age, my mother was killed too. By a Fire Nation soldier. He was an evil man – a monster. I grew up hating that man for what he did. I wanted to kill him, I really did. And one day, I had a chance to. I could have done it. It would have been easy."

Katara paused, remembering that day – that defining moment – the gray sky, the raindrops hovering in midair, and the pathetic monster begging for his life at her feet. She clenched her fists impulsively. The drops of dew on Appa's saddle around her began to rise up into the air, floating, quivering, responding to her fierce emotions.

But then she relaxed, and sighed again, and the dew drops settled. "But I didn't do it."

Ursa frowned, eyes wide, amazed and bewildered. "But – why not?"

"Because, it – it wasn't right. If I'd have taken his life, I might have been just as much of a monster as he was."

The little girl looked almost indignant. "So you let him go? You just did _nothing_?"

"_Ursa_." Katara's voice was stern and soft. "There's a big difference between showing restraint and mercy, and doing nothing. Avatar Aang knew that, and helped me see that too. He told me that it's easy to do nothing, but hard to forgive. I didn't want to listen to him then, but – but he was right, Ursa. He was."

She paused again, waiting. Ursa wasn't looking at her anymore; she'd turned her eyes downward, and crossed her arms, curling herself into a fierce, frustrated little ball of a girl. Bitter tears rolled down her cheeks in silence.

Katara hugged her tightly. "I know you may not want to listen to me right now, either, Ursa. That's okay. But you can't let your anger and your hatred make you into something you're not, or you might turn into a monster yourself."

Even though she allowed Katara to hug her, and even conceded to lean closer to her, Ursa kept herself tightly curled up and shook her head fervently. Her voice strained with grief as she whispered, "I can't forgive her, Aunt Tara. I _can't_. It's too hard."

"I understand, sweetheart," Katara said gently. "I really, really do. But you're still strong. You're stronger than hatred, and you're stronger than Azula. And as long as you remember that, then nothing Azula ever does can change it. Nothing. Understand?"

Ursa hesitated, but nodded feebly. Katara wrapped her arms around the little girl and pulled her close, combing her fingers through Ursa's hair in silence until the girl drifted off into an exhausted, teary-eyed stupor in her lap.

Toph had kept her mouth shut throughout the conversation, just absorbing it all contemplatively. She thought she wanted to say something to Katara, but now that she felt it was the time to say it, she realized she had no idea what she wanted to say. Sokka, sitting up front on Appa's head, had also been listening quietly, and found he had nothing to say either. Everything had been said that needed to be, for now.

After a long, sleepy silence – just as Yonten was beginning to wake up – Sokka yawned for the thirty-second time in the last half-hour, and said, "Hey, someone else want to take over the reins for a while?"

"I'll do it," Toph offered, with a faint smirk.

"Thanks, Toph. I just really need a…" Then he stopped, and glowered over his shoulder at the blind Earthbender. "Toph. _Really_. It's way too early in the morning for those jokes."

"Ah, you missed me, didn't you, Sokka?" she chuckled.

"Y'know," Sokka snickered, shaking his head, "I really did."

* * *

><p>Appa had been flying all night, and was yawning nearly as much as Sokka by the time morning arrived. But regardless, the tenacious bison managed to keep going all the way till late afternoon that day. Perhaps he had some sense of the urgency of Uncle's condition, or he understood the pressure of the Solstice deadline that weighed upon them all, empathizing with their own increasing stress. Nevertheless, no matter how tenacious he was, Appa needed his food – he did have five stomachs, after all – and he needed at least a quick nap. It wasn't easy carrying five grown adults (one extra large) and a child across the world without a chance to stop and recuperate now and then.<p>

So, despite the anxiety of the time crunch, they landed to rest in a wooded valley sometime between noon and suppertime. All throughout that morning and afternoon, Katara had been steadily working to heal Iroh's injuries, and she was feeling rather encouraged by how much he'd improved by the time they landed. Her rising spirits were enough to lighten everyone's, and the entire party felt rather optimistic as they helped lift Uncle off the saddle and unload for a quick meal.

"You know," Sokka commented, whistling. "We may actually make it to the Fire Nation a couple of days earlier than we thought."

"I really hope so," Katara sighed, afraid to get her hopes up too much, but smiling nevertheless.

"How you doing, Uncle?" Toph asked, as she, Yonten and Katara helped settle him carefully onto a comfortable place on the ground.

"Still in desperate need of some tea!" he replied tragically. "But other than that, I feel fine. You know, since we're here, I bet I could find something in this forest that would make a lovely – "

"_No_, Uncle," Katara said, in her most severe motherly tone. "No scavenging through the forest for tea ingredients. I know you want some, but you need to lie still and rest."

"But I'm telling you, I would heal so much faster if I had some tea!" he insisted. "Even a single cup would do wonders! I'm sure I wouldn't need to go very far. If I could just find some leechi nuts, or ginger roots, or perhaps a – "

"What about this?" Yonten said suddenly, stepping over to a nearby tree and plucking a delicate pink-and-white flower growing from a bush at its base. "Can you make something out of this?"

Iroh squinted at the flower for a moment, and his eyes grew wide. "The white dragon blossom!" His mouth began watering almost instantly. "Makes a tea so delicious it's heartbreaking, as they say! It's incredibly rare, especially in this part of the Earth Kingdom! What are the odds! How did you – Wait a minute, let me see that…"

Yonten brought the flower and handed it to Iroh, who examined it suspiciously, then gazed off into the distance in intense deliberation for a few moments, muttering to himself.

"If the white is on the outside, then… Or was it the other way around?... _Outside red… _No, _inside white… _Yes! That was it!" His eyes lit up with excitement. "This is definitely the non-deadly kind! Perfect! _Let's make some tea!_"

"The _non-deadly_ kind!" Katara exclaimed. Toph chortled beside her.

"Yes, I'm sure of it!" he nodded eagerly, holding the flower out to her. "Please?"

"I don't know – "

"_Please?_"

Katara sighed, taking the flower and studying it carefully. "You're _sure _this is the right plant?"

"Yes, I'm positive! Listen, it goes like this: '_Inside white – it's all right. Inside red – oops, you're dead!_'" He grinned proudly. "I made that up myself! After an, eh… unfortunate experience years ago. But this is the good kind, you see! White on the inside."

Toph was still chuckling. "Come on, Katara," she nudged her. "I think Uncle knows what he's talking about when it comes to tea ingredients, don't you?"

"Okay, fine," Katara finally sighed in defeat. "We'll make some tea. But I'm going to test it out first, just to be sure. And if I die, then you'll all know not to drink it." She fixed Uncle with a grave stare. "And it'll be _your _fault if I die, Uncle. Just keep that in mind."

"Hey, Pipsqueak," Toph said, turning towards Yonten, who instantly blushed simply at being addressed. "Why don't you go get some water? There's a stream a little ways over in that direction." She pointed towards the southern part of the forest.

Yonten blinked at her, baffled. "But – how do you know that? I didn't see it when we – "

"Oh, you people and your _eyes_!" Toph shook her head. "Just trust me, it's there. I can feel it in my heart. Go on."

Yonten hastily shut his mouth, snatched a pot right out of Sokka's hands, and scuttled off in a whirlwind towards the supposed stream.

"Hey!" Sokka cried indignantly.

Katara gave Toph a dubious look. "There _is _actually a stream, right, Toph?"

"Of course," Toph said, surprised. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"Just making sure you weren't trying to send him on a wild goose chase," Katara shrugged, grinning slightly.

"Oh, come on, I'm not _that _mean." She shook her head again, and then gestured to Ursa. "Wanna help me get some firewood, Ursa?"

"Sure," Ursa said, taking her hand and walking off with her into another part of the forest.

Minutes later, they'd started a fire in their little clearing, with the pot of water boiling over it, and Uncle showed them all the proper way to brew the white dragon tea. Although Katara had offered to taste it first, Sokka snatched the first cup out of her hands and took a large gulp before she could stop him. When he didn't die – and also, incidentally, declared that it was the best tea he'd ever tasted – they all concurred that it was _definitely_ the non-deadly kind, and had a round of soothing, heartbreakingly delicious white dragon tea. Uncle drifted off into another weary doze after he'd drunk his cup, and he looked so utterly blissful that Katara rather wished they'd made him some tea hours ago.

As they all sat in quiet contemplation around the dying fire, listening to Uncle's and Appa's oddly similar snores, Toph suddenly broke the silence.

"So, Katara," she began bluntly, "I hate to bring this up now, but – have you given much thought into _how _you're actually gonna save Aang, once you get there?"

Silence fell around the group. Katara didn't respond; she merely stared at the faint embers of their dying fire, frowning, while turbulent anxiety stirred behind her gaze. Sokka watched her closely, concerned – though he was hardly surprised. She looked as if she hadn't given the question any thought at all.

"'Cause, you know," Toph continued carefully, when Katara didn't answer her, "I doubt it's gonna be a matter of politely asking if you can have him back."

"I, uh – I don't know, Toph," Katara stammered, flushing and rubbing her neck. "I mean… I guess I was just sort of assuming I'd figure it out when I got there."

"Well, you might wanna start thinking about it!" Toph cried.

"I know, I know!" Katara growled, hiding her face in her hands and exhaling in exasperation. "It's just… I barely know anything about the Spirit World. And I _really _don't know anything about… about this _thing_, other than that it… steals faces. How can I make a plan when I don't know what I'm up against?"

"You're going to the Spirit World?" Ursa cried, her eyes growing wide with panic. "Aunt Tara! You can't go! What if you get stuck? What if you can't come back? What if a spirit monster eats you?"

"She's _not _gonna get eaten by a spirit monster," Sokka interjected resolutely. "Or have _any_ physical features whatsoever stolen by any strange ancient spirit monster thieves, either."

"But – why do you have to go?" Ursa demanded frantically, looking as if she were on the verge of tears again.

"I'm going to save Avatar Aang," Katara replied quietly. "He's been stuck in the Spirit World for a long time, ever since you were just a baby, and I'm going to bring him back."

"_Really_?" Ursa's eyes widened with astonishment. She knew that Avatar Aang had once been good friends with all the important adults in her life, and even that she'd met him herself, when she was far too young to remember. But the image in her mind of Avatar Aang was one built upon wildly exaggerated stories, and he seemed much more like a mythic hero than an actual person to her. The idea of Aunt Tara casually bringing him home for supper, like any ordinary friend, gave her an uncanny thrill. "But – how are you gonna do that?"

Katara sighed in frustration. "Well, that's kind of the big question right now, isn't it?"

"You know," Toph interrupted, furrowing her brow thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about that whole Face-Stealer thing, and honestly – I'm not even really sure what that actually _means_. Stealing faces? I mean, how does that work?"

"Where does it keep the faces it steals, I wonder?" Yonten added, with an equally perplexed frown.

"Yeah, exactly," she nodded, scratching her head. "That's exactly the sort of thing I mean! How do you _keep _faces after you steal them? Do you think it has some sort of little… trophy room, full of stolen faces?"

Sokka kept his eyes carefully on Katara. Her face was blanching in horror at the idea – immediately thinking of Aang, of course. No doubt she was vividly imagining his lifeless face, amongst a hundred other dead faces, decorating some monster's den like animal heads stuffed and mounted on a hunter's wall... _Yikes - _Sokka suddenly felt a violent chill himself. Meanwhile, Ursa was gawking at Yonten and Toph with an expression of awestruck, morbid curiosity.

"Well, maybe, if it does keep them all in some kind of room," Yonten suggested hopefully, "she can just go in there and… uh, steal it back? Right? She wouldn't even have to worry about dealing with the monster at all."

Toph grimaced. "Yeah, I guess that would be… good. Maybe. Unless she got caught."

Then a new thought occurred to Yonten, and he grimaced as well. "But how would you, um… reattach the face, do you think? Or even carry it? Can you _do_ that?"

A shudder rippled through Toph. "I don't know," she said. "And what happens to someone when they get their face stolen? I mean – obviously they're still alive afterward, since Aang's still alive. But how? How is that possible? How could you breathe, or eat, without a face?"

"I guess those things don't really matter in the Spirit World," Yonten shrugged.

"And," Toph kept going, her mind spinning with all the eerie complications of this scenario, "are they still – you know, _conscious_ when it happens? And what about afterward?"

"Do you think they know they're walking around without a face?" Yonten shivered at the thought.

"And is there…" Toph swallowed hard. "You know… does it leave the… the skin on – ?"

"TOPH! BALDY!" Sokka interrupted fiercely. "Seriously, you two! Cut it out!"

Anxious, he glanced again at Katara. She was pale and breathing hard, and looked as if she were about to vomit.

"Sorry," Toph muttered defensively. "I'm just genuinely curious about all this stuff!"

"Koh."

Everyone stopped, taken aback by the sudden strange syllable. It was Iroh who had spoken it. He'd woken up from his gentle nap in time to hear their unsettling conversation, and was staring at Katara very somberly.

"What did you say?" she asked breathlessly, still struggling to calm herself down.

"Koh?" Yonten repeated, bewildered. "What does that mean?"

"You are talking about Koh. The Face-Stealer." Uncle's voice was hushed and solemn, and he kept his gaze fixed steadily on Katara. "Isn't that right?"

"Is that its name?" Katara whispered. "Koh?"

"Wait – you _know_ about the Face-Stealer, Uncle?" Toph exclaimed.

"Yes, Toph, I do," he replied softly, adjusting himself into a more upright position, to better see them all as he spoke. "In fact, I have met Koh the Face-Stealer in person. Many, many years ago."

"What?" everyone cried in unison.

"Tell me!" Katara begged. "Tell me about the Face-Stealer, Uncle! Please!"

"I will, I will," he muttered, holding up his hand. "But first, I'd like to know why exactly we are talking about the Face-Stealer in the first place? Katara – this wouldn't have anything to do with young Aang's strange disappearance, would it?"

Katara faltered, heart thumping wildly. "Yes," she replied at last, with an unsteady voice. "His face was stolen five years ago, by Koh. I'm, uh – kinda hoping to get it back."

Iroh's gaze turned inward for a moment; a dark shadow of despair and horror passed over his expression, and he shook his head with slow gravity.

"Oh, that's…" he murmured worriedly, "that's… that's bad."

"Well. _Yeah_," Sokka remarked, frowning. "Obviously it's bad."

"_No_," Iroh insisted. "No, that's _very, VERY _bad." He turned his eyes sorrowfully back to Katara. "You see, as far as I'm aware – and I may be wrong about this, but I don't think so – no one has ever successfully taken a face _back _from Koh, once it has been stolen. Having your face stolen is, ah, a rather permanent condition."

Katara stared back at him distantly, biting her lip. "Wow," she commented after a heavy pause. "Great. All of you guys are really just building me up today. Thanks."

"I am sorry, Katara," Iroh sighed. "I'm only telling you what I know. Like I said, I may be wrong. And, of course, even if I'm not, it doesn't mean that it's not possible. Just that it's very, very… _very _difficult."

"Great. Good to know," Katara breathed. Her hands were shaking, and she fiercely crossed her arms and tucked herself into a ball, struggling not to give in to the crushing hopelessness. Sokka put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed her back, trying to give her some meager comfort.

"Tell us the story, Uncle," Ursa spoke up timidly. "How did you meet the… the Face-Stealer?"

Toph suddenly covered Ursa's ears. "Hey, uh, you know what? I'm not sure you should be hearing about all this stuff, squirt."

But Ursa indignantly twisted herself away from Toph's hands. "Why not?" she demanded.

"Because your dad will kill me if you get nightmares from this," Toph said sternly. "That's why."

"Um. I'm pretty sure it's too late to worry about that, Toph," Sokka pointed out dryly. "Miss 'Does-It-Leave-The-Skin-On' Beifong."

"That _is _pretty gruesome," Yonten shrugged at Toph.

"Yeah! Exactly. It's too late," Ursa agreed, nodding. "I'm not scared, anyway."

Toph scowled. "Fine. But if you _do _get nightmares, don't come crying to me. Go on, Uncle. Tell us the story."

"It was a long time ago," Uncle began solemnly. "About sixteen years ago. I had just lost my only son, Lu Ten, in my... rather infamous failed Siege of Ba Sing Se. After Lu Ten's death, I abandoned the siege – I simply lost the will to continue. Shortly after, I received news that my father Azulon had died, under somewhat suspicious circumstances, and my younger brother Ozai had taken the throne and deposed me from my rightful place as heir. I had nothing but shame to return to at home, and with my dear son gone, I fell into a deep despair for a very long time. I began to wander the world aimlessly, trying to… find myself, you could say. It was a very difficult time in my life, though it did prove to eventually be one of the _best _times in my life as well. That happens a lot, you'll find as you all get older."

"I'm not sure we even need to be older," Sokka observed thoughtfully. "At least, _I_ definitely get what you mean."

Uncle smiled a bit, then went on. "Well, at some point – probably the lowest point of my entire life, when I'd surrendered to despair almost completely – I made up my mind to go to the Spirit World and find a way to bring my son back."

"How did you get there?" Katara asked, hoping to absorb as much useful information as she could.

Uncle frowned to himself for a moment. "You know," he commented, "I don't exactly remember. You see, what happened was, I'd gone to the North Pole – "

"That's where we're going!" Katara interrupted suddenly, excited. Then she looked apologetic. "Sorry. It's just… nice to know we're at least on the right track."

"Ah," Uncle looked as if he'd lost his train of thought. He shook his head, then finally continued. "I was there for another reason, which I don't remember now… Anyway, I heard about the Spirit Oasis, and that was what initially gave me the idea. But, uh… like I said, I don't quite remember exactly_ how_ I did it. But I did, somehow. I went to the Spirit World, and I stayed there for – " He paused, mentally calculating, " – four months. Approximately."

"You must have _really _had to go to the bathroom when you got back," Sokka remarked, making an uncomfortable face. He'd had his own unpleasant experience with that sort of thing.

"The return journey _was _pretty grueling, after such a long time," Uncle nodded, also making an uncomfortable face at the memory. "But, anyway. While I was in the Spirit World, I did… well, I did quite a lot. I can't tell you about everything, or I would be talking here until the Solstice – "

"Please don't," Katara muttered anxiously.

"But, to make a long story short, I was informed at some point that Koh the Face-Stealer was a very ancient and knowledgeable spirit, who might have some information about bringing the deceased back to the mortal world." He sighed, and closed his eyes tightly. "So… I sought him out."

"What happened?" Toph asked breathlessly.

"Suffice it to say, I did not get the information I'd come for, and I very narrowly avoided the undesirable experience of losing my face." He shuddered. "It was a foolish thing to do, in retrospect. But, you know, it could have turned out much worse."

"So, what's the Face-Stealer like, Uncle?" Katara asked impatiently, desperate to know anything at all about what kind of a situation she was getting herself into.

"Koh is apathetic and merciless," he replied gravely. "He has a body rather like an enormous centipede, and his face is always shifting – animals, spirits, men, women, children – he switches between all his stolen faces at his leisure, choosing whichever one he thinks would be most useful at the moment."

"So, no trophy room, I guess," Toph muttered, nudging Yonten with her elbow.

"If you show him the slightest bit of emotion – allow yourself to make even the smallest expression – he will take that opportunity to steal your face. The only way to avoid it is to keep your expression perfectly blank. But Koh will do anything he can to make you flinch or waver. And, I can tell you from experience, he has no interest in mortals, or really in anyone but himself. He won't be moved by any tragic story you tell him, or any appeal to morality. He only cares about increasing his collection of faces, in any way possible. He makes exceptions for no one."

Katara looked like she was going to be ill again. Her entire body was quaking, but her eyes were riveted on Iroh, and a thunderous storm of defiant resolve was brewing behind her gaze. Everyone else merely stared at Uncle with wide eyes and open mouths, swept up in the horror of it all, like children listening to a ghost story. But the only actual child among the group, Ursa, had curled up to Toph and buried her face in the Earthbender's arm, rather wishing she hadn't insisted on hearing the story, but far too proud to admit it.

Iroh fixed Katara with a very serious frown. "Katara," he said slowly. "Koh is extremely dangerous. If it is true, that he really has stolen Aang's face, then – "

"I know, I know," Katara snapped fiercely, shaking her head and ranting in an impatient fury. "It's really dangerous, and I shouldn't go. Everyone's been telling me the same thing. I can't do it – it can't be done – there's no chance at all – Aang's gone for good, and I should just accept it and move on with my life, right? But I can't, Uncle. I just _can't_, all right? I can't just go home and forget about this, and live the rest of my life knowing that I had this one opportunity to save him, and instead I got scared and went home and left him to be faceless in the Spirit World for all eternity! I know it's never been done, but I have to save him, Uncle! I _have _to."

"Yes, you have to!" Uncle cried fervently.

"I don't ca – what?" she stopped, gaping at him in surprise.

"What?" Sokka and Toph exclaimed simultaneously, also staring at Iroh with astonishment.

"Oh," Katara stammered. "Sorry, Uncle. I wasn't expecting that."

"If this Face-Stealer has stolen Aang's face, then he has crossed a boundary I believe he should never have crossed!" Iroh's face was stern with wrath. "I don't know if there actually _is _any kind of rule against stealing an Avatar's face. But if there's not, then there should be! Katara, you must do whatever it takes to bring Aang back. The balance of the world may be at stake!" After a brief pause, he added rather meekly: "Also, I must admit, I really miss that little Airbender. He always showed such cheerful enthusiasm for my teas."

"But you said it's never been done," Sokka pointed out cautiously, feeling rather uncomfortable with the trajectory of this conversation. "You said you couldn't get a face back from Koh once he'd stolen it."

"I said it's never been done, not that it _couldn't _be done," Iroh shook his head. "I don't know how it can be done, but there must be a way. Katara, you will simply have to be the first to do it."

Katara was altogether quite taken aback, and not entirely sure how to process this. She sat back down, slowly, head spinning. "Right," she murmured. "Sure, I'll be the first. How hard can it be?"

"You _will_ do it," Yonten spoke up suddenly, his voice soft, but assured. "It's your destiny, Katara. Why else would I have been sent to give you the message? I don't think the spirits would have bothered to contact you, if there was no hope at all."

"Hmph," Toph grunted. "Yeah… about that. Hey, Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"Since you kinda know everything about everything – "

Uncle chuckled a bit. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Can I ask your opinion about something?" Toph went on, disregarding his remark. "See, Pipsqueak here got this message from the Spirit World about Aang not too long ago. But apparently, Katara's only got till the Solstice to save him, or Twinkle Toes is gonna go bad like old fruit. So, I've been wondering – since there's this unfortunate time limit, why do you think it took _five damn years _– "

"Toph!" Katara scolded her.

"Oh, sorry." Toph covered Ursa's ears again. "… _Five damn years_ for the spirits to send us this slightly important little tidbit of information?"

Ursa squirmed out of Toph's grasp once more. "Auntie Toph! Come on, it's not like I've never heard that word before."

"It's bad for your soul, squirt," Toph retorted. "Deal with it."

Uncle stroked his beard in contemplation for a moment, grumbling softly to himself. "Well," he muttered finally, "I wouldn't exactly call myself an expert on these matters – "

"I think you're a lot more of an expert than the rest of us," Toph scoffed.

"Well," Iroh said again. "I suppose I _might _have a bit of a theory that would explain it. I'll tell you what I know." He adjusted himself a bit, settling comfortably and folding his hands over his stomach. "You see, thousands of years ago, there were many pathways between the Mortal World and the Spirit World. The boundary between the two worlds was very – blurry, you might say. Crossing over was sometimes simply a matter of, heh, taking a careful step to the right, as someone once said. But over time the worlds have become more and more separated; the boundary has grown much harder to penetrate. No one is… entirely sure why it's happened that way. Some think that it's because we mortals here in this world have stopped caring, have grown less and less concerned with spiritual matters, and so the spirits have grown less concerned with us. Some think it's that we have not shown the proper respect for our environments, and so the spirits have been driven away – "

"I once met a spirit called the Painted Lady," Katara interjected. "She was driven out after her lake was polluted by a Fire Nation factory."

Iroh nodded. "There are also others who believe that the growing distance between the Spirit World and the Mortal World is simply a natural progression. But no matter the reason, it's undeniable that the Spirit World is not as close to us as it once was. And, in a way, that _has _been something of a good thing. You remember the story I told you, Katara, of Avatar Tenzin?"

"How he closed up some of the pathways between the worlds?" she asked.

He nodded again. "During his time, it was a necessary separation, for the sake of preserving balance. But because of that, now there are few remaining places where the Spirit World and the Mortal World intersect. The Spirit Oasis at the North Pole is one of them, of course. I believe that the library of Wan Shi Tong was another, though it seems that now that one has been closed as well, according to what happened when you were all there years ago. There are still others, scattered throughout the world – most of them are difficult to find, unless you stumble across them accidentally. But it seems that more and more of those paths are closing."

"But," Sokka interrupted curiously, "isn't that – I don't know – _bad_? I mean, this mystical spirit stuff isn't really my thing, but wouldn't that… you know, throw off the balance of the universe, or something?"

Iroh sighed wearily, scratching his head. "I honestly don't know," he admitted. "I've wondered the same thing, myself. But it's the kind of thing that's far beyond our control, and so I see no point in worrying about it. Balance has a way of restoring itself, one way or another. And, of course, the Avatar is essential. The great gulf between the worlds is growing wider and wider. But the Avatar is the bridge that spans that gulf."

"Right," Sokka chuckled. "Aang's the Great Bridge Guy. How many times have we heard that one?"

"I think the problem now," Iroh continued, "is that – well, to put it bluntly, for the past five years, the Great Bridge has been, uh… out of commission."

Toph frowned. "Wait – so you're saying the reason that none of us were told what happened to Aang all these years is because… basically, because there was no Aang?"

The old man shrugged. "I don't know for sure. It's just a hypothesis. And – not to brag or anything – but I _do _have something of a sense for spiritual activity. And ever since Aang's disappearance, I've noticed that things have been strangely… quiet."

Katara shook her head, furrowing her brow in puzzlement. "But that doesn't make any sense," she argued. "What about when he was frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years? Wouldn't the Great Bridge have been out of commission all that time, too?"

"But he was still alive _here_ in the Mortal World during that time, even though he was inactive," Iroh pointed out. "Now, he's been taken completely out of our world. Not dead, of course; he'd simply be reincarnated if that was the case, and the problem would be solved. No – just gone. Essentially, for the time being, the Avatar has ceased to exist."

"That sounds weirdly familiar, too," Sokka commented.

"Like the Lion Turtle Incident," Katara nodded. "Right, Sokka?"

"Oh, right!" Toph exclaimed. "Aang's freaky little vanishing act, right before Sozin's Comet. I remember that."

"Lion Turtle?" Yonten asked. All at once he sat up very straight, fully alert, eyes glinting.

"Yeah!" Ursa spoke up eagerly (the Lion Turtle story was always one of her favorites). "It's this humongous animal – "

"No, no," he cut her off impatiently, speaking with sudden haste and urgency. "I _know _what a Lion Turtle is. But what happened? What was the Lion Turtle Incident?"

Everyone stopped talking for a moment, surprised by his unexpected burst of oddly high interest. Sokka and Katara both raised their eyebrows at him.

"Why are _you _suddenly so curious, Pipsqueak?" Sokka asked suspiciously, his previous misgivings about the Airbender beginning to surface once again.

Yonten became suddenly very uncomfortable, and quickly dropped his eyes to the ground, awkwardly tracing small spirals in the dirt. "It just… sounds very intriguing," he murmured. "That's all."

Toph frowned dubiously, crossing her arms. Sokka and Katara exchanged slightly uneasy glances, and then Sokka shrugged at her resignedly. So Katara began to – tentatively – tell the story.

"Well," she told Yonten, "what happened was, about eight years ago, Aang disappeared a few days before he was supposed to fight Fire Lord Ozai. We tried to track him down, but the bounty hunter we hired to find him told us that he was completely gone. Not dead; he just didn't exist. When he came back, he'd somehow learned how to bend the energy in another person's body, and used it to take away Ozai's firebending. He told us all later that a giant Lion Turtle taught him how to do it. I'm kinda fuzzy on what exactly happened – "

"I think Aang was a little fuzzy on it himself," Sokka commented.

"But as far as I remember," she went on, "this Lion Turtle thing just appeared one night, swam up to shore, picked Aang up, and swam off. And Aang spent a day or two just living on its back, thinking it was some kind of strange island. And then…"

"Basically," Sokka took over, apparently impatient to get to the exciting part of the story (or merely convinced that he could tell it better), "he finally figured out it _wasn't _an island. And then the Lion Turtle said, 'Hey, little buddy, guess what? I just so happen to know this super-useful mystical bending art that's been lost to the mists of time! Here's a free lesson, my treat!' And then he dropped him off and swam away again. And then Aang went all Avatar-State crazy and kicked the Fire Lord's butt, and it was awesome. And that was all."

"Thanks, Sokka." Katara glared at him.

He grinned at her. "No problem."

Iroh was stroking his beard in contemplation again, and he mumbled. "Hm. The Lion Turtle is definitely an interesting complication. I don't know much about Lion Turtles, except that there used to be a great number of them, and now – well, as far as I know, now there is only one left: the one that Aang met. But I do know that they are the most ancient creatures in the world, even more ancient than the Avatar. You could say that they are relics of the time when the Spirit World overlapped with the Mortal World. And it seems, in a sense, that the creature himself still overlaps – lives halfway between the worlds. Which is probably why Aang appeared to no longer exist while he was living on the Lion Turtle's back."

They all sat for a few moments in a brooding silence, pondering these rather surreal ideas. Yonten, however, began to look increasingly uneasy. He gathered his knees close to his chest and kept his eyes carefully away from anyone else's, biting his lip and fidgeting. Sokka was the first to look back at him, and he didn't fail to notice the Airbender's discomfort.

"You're being strangely quiet about all this, Arrow Head," he observed apprehensively, trying to catch Yonten's eye. "You seemed so curious a minute ago."

But Yonten wouldn't allow Sokka, or anyone else, to look him in the eyes. He shifted anxiously, and looked as if he were about to either yell, or cry, or flee – perhaps all three at once.

Toph crossed her arms sternly, glowering vaguely in his direction. "Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling us?"

"Yonten?" Katara asked softly. "Do you know something about this?"

He didn't reply for several minutes. But at last, the uncomfortable Airbender released a slow, defeated sigh. "Yes," he murmured, almost inaudibly.

"Well, spit it out!" Toph demanded.

Yonten flinched, then hesitated, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they were turned intently upon Iroh.

"You are right," he nodded at the old man. "Everything you've said is correct. Except… there is _not _only one Lion Turtle left in this world. There are two."

Everyone's jaws dropped almost as one. All eyes, except Toph's, were fastened carefully upon Yonten.

But he looked away again, embarrassed. "Well," he added. "At least two."

"What?" Katara gasped.

Yonten sighed again, and finally gazed at Katara apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't explain this earlier," he began. "Remember before, when you and Sokka were asking why the other Airbenders could never be found again? Well, I didn't want to tell you, partly because I wanted to prevent you or the Avatar from attempting to find them in the future, and partly because I didn't think you'd believe me. But now that I know that the Avatar himself met another Lion Turtle, I suppose you wouldn't have any trouble accepting – "

"WHAT?!" Sokka exploded, shaking his head vigorously and holding up his hands. "Wait, wait, _wait_! No! Don't tell me that all you Airbenders have been _living _on a _Lion Turtle_ for _a hundred years_?!"

Yonten's eyes shifted sheepishly. "Um. Yes."

In unison, Katara, Sokka, Toph and Ursa all cried, "_WHAT?!_"

"How fascinating!" Uncle muttered breathlessly.

"How is that even possible?" Katara demanded.

"The elders who survived the slaughter of the Air Nomads," Yonten explained hastily, "used to tell us the story of how they had been rescued by the Lion Turtle during Sozin's attack. They were only eight children who'd been smuggled out of the temple and had fled to the shore. Even though they escaped the initial massacre, they would have almost certainly been hunted down and killed as well. But before any of Sozin's soldiers found them, the Lion Turtle appeared – swam up out of the sea, like you described it – and took them away. And they… well, they stayed." He paused, murmuring, "For… obvious reasons."

Toph shook her head incredulously. "How can a group of people live on a giant turtle for _a hundred years_?"

"Why not?" Uncle cried. He seemed quite excited by this story. "Why would it be any different than living on a moving island? Even Aang believed that the Lion Turtle was nothing but a strange island for at least a day or two, before he realized the truth. This is most incredible!"

Suddenly, Yonten exhaled deeply, and bowed his head in sorrowful shame.

"I also… have a confession to make," he whispered.

He didn't speak again for a while, though everyone stared at him in solemn expectation.

At last Sokka said, "Go on." His voice was dark and tense, and he scrutinized the Airbender warily. Something told him that this confession was going to be a bit upsetting, somehow.

Yonten sighed again, painfully, already cringing in anticipation of the consequences. But he forced himself to go on. "I'm – I'm so sorry, Katara," he said hoarsely. "But… I've just realized, I think you should have – I'm afraid that you should have received the news of Avatar Aang's situation much sooner. And… and my people and I are to blame for the delay."

Katara gaped at him as if he'd just slapped her in the face. He looked up at her, his face contorted with sharp remorse.

"I'm so, _so _sorry," he whispered.

"What?" Katara gasped, her voice croaking. She could barely force the word out of her throat.

In guilty anguish, Yonten looked away from her again, unable to bear the profound betrayal in her eyes. "We didn't know," he stammered hastily. "None of us knew. We didn't know how urgent it was. We didn't realize there was no other way… I – "

When he looked around again, he saw that every pair of eyes in the group was firmly fixed on him, all silently incinerating him in breathless, angry shock.

"All this time," he continued anxiously, growing increasingly distressed and frustrated, "all this time, I've been wondering – why did it have to be me? Why was _I _the one chosen to bring the message? Why couldn't the spirits have contacted someone closer, someone with less to lose? Or why couldn't they have just given the message straight to any of you?" He faltered, shaking his head regretfully. "Well, I know now. Now it's clear that there's been some kind of a… spiritual block in the world, since the Avatar disappeared. But my people and I never felt it – we never experienced any block – because we were living on the Lion Turtle. Halfway between the worlds, as Iroh said. So we must have been given the message because… because the spirits couldn't get _through_ to anyone else."

He paused yet again, bracing himself, and dared to look at Katara once more.

"But – " He stumbled over the words, his voice growing steadily fainter as he spoke – "you see, I – I wasn't the first Airbender to be contacted by the spirits… I was just the first who decided to do something about it."

Katara felt as if something deep inside her had ruptured violently. She boiled, and flushed, and fought to breathe properly. And when she spoke, with great effort, her voice cracked and shuddered. "You mean you _knew_?" she rasped. "You _all knew_? This whole time? And no one…"

"No, I didn't know!" Yonten protested frantically. "I mean – not exactly. I mean – I only heard rumors that a few of the others had received some messages from the Spirit World concerning the Avatar, but I didn't know what they were about. I just never asked. No one ever talked about it."

Katara could only bite her lip fiercely, jerking away abruptly and sucking in her breath as if she'd been bitten. Her entire body was quivering with rage.

"Please understand, Katara!" the Airbender pleaded, his voice strained with desperate penitence. "None of us had left for a hundred years! We knew nothing about the outside – most of us still believed that our lives would be in danger if we left! And we all knew that we could never return – we didn't think the situation concerned us – "

"_Stop_." Sokka's command resounded through the air like icy lightning.

Katara scrambled to her feet, clenching her teeth and fists in trembling fury, and fled into the forest.

"Katara!" Sokka cried, hastily rising and running after her.

"I'm sorry!" Yonten shouted desperately, burying his face in his hands as they both vanished into the trees.

* * *

><p>Katara tore through the forest, stumbling blindly, so overcome with rage that her eyesight flooded with burning red and she saw only dizzy floating shards of her surroundings. Every nerve in her body pulsed with sharp, searing, savage fury.<p>

Five years – five years –

For five years, they knew.

All that time, she was waiting, waiting, waiting – suffering through nightmares – wondering hopelessly – longing for any answers, any at all –

They knew all along - they could have told her - but they didn't care –

They didn't care –

And now it was too late – the deadline was approaching – she was going to lose him, forever, all because they didn't care –

She should have been told five years ago! She should have known! She could have done something!

Five years wasted - _five years_ - she could have done something five years ago! And now she was running out of time, and it was _their _fault, and – and –

There was a splash somewhere down by her feet. She'd blundered into the stream. The cool, crystal water lapped against her legs.

For a moment, she folded up, quivering, crunching as small as she could, allowing the rage to build up pressure.

Then an agonized roar erupted from her, thundering forth from all the deepest, darkest parts of herself. She threw her head back and launched it into the air with every ounce of power in her body, and the savage echoes of it screeched through every corner of the forest. The stream at her feet rolled back, recoiling from her, as if it was startled or frightened.

In a frenzy, she began to whip around, ripping at the tree branches nearest to her and punching at the trees until her hands were streaming blood. Then she lifted the stream itself up, bending it into a hurricane of slicing razors, tossing it wildly in every possible direction until she'd thoroughly demolished everything in sight. And all the while, she kept screaming and screaming, pouring out every last drop of anguished fury.

Sokka, having run after her, cautiously kept his distance until her waterbending tempest had somewhat subsided, and then he darted at her, attempting to grab hold of her arms and hold her still. "Katara!" he shouted. "Stop! Calm down!"

She was still bellowing like a mad woman, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against his grasp.

"No! _No!_" she howled ferociously. "All this time! All this time they knew! I could have saved him! I could have – they knew all along! They didn't care! They _hate _him – they hate him and they abandoned him and I could have – I could have – I could have saved him – all this time…"

At last, completely sapped of her violent energy, she stopped struggling against him and just stood there, gasping frantically for air, suffocating in her rage and agony. Suddenly, she simply crumpled to the ground and sobbed helplessly, quaking and shivering and moaning like a wounded animal.

Sokka knelt beside her on the ground, gathering her into his arms, and he held her tightly and rocked her like a child until, a long while later, she finally finished crying out all her tears and passed out from utter exhaustion.

* * *

><p>Back in the clearing, while Appa still slumbered, oblivious to the turmoil and tragedy around him, Yonten buried his face deeper into his arms and groaned with guilty regret, fighting to disappear into himself. Toph, Ursa and Iroh all merely sat in heavy silence, brewing with a variety of unhappy emotions, wondering how to react to this terrible revelation. Ursa had kept quiet through most of the conversation, trying to understand as much as she could; but she felt as if she were on the outside of some bewildering disaster, watching it unfold and unsure where she fit into the equation. Iroh merely brooded, filled mostly with quiet sorrow. Toph simmered with anger – though she couldn't make herself blame the Airbender, or anyone else, for what was happening; her anger had no place to go, so she simply sat there, jaw clenched, letting it fester.<p>

"This is all my fault," Yonten moaned after a while.

Toph didn't say a word.

At last, Iroh shook his head heavily. "Don't blame yourself, young Airbender," he said, with quiet gentleness. "You did all you could."

"No!" Yonten cried, shaking his own head, furious at himself. "I should have done more. I should have contacted the spirits earlier – or I should have asked the others about what they knew. I could have come earlier, if I'd known. Or maybe I could have convinced one of them to… If I had just _cared _more – "

"Look," Toph suddenly snapped, frustrated and impatient. "There's no point in thinking about what could have happened. What's done is done. You just have to move forward, you know?"

Yonten sighed miserably and once more tried to collapse into himself, as if he wished to vanish from existence.

No one said anything else for a while. Toph at last felt herself beginning to cool down, her anger giving way to simple sadness. She could sense that the Airbender was punishing himself harshly for this – too harshly. Uncle was right: he'd done all he could. He hadn't known; he'd come as soon as he knew. She felt rather sorry for the little guy, suddenly, and thought perhaps, maybe... _ugh... _she ought to do something to make him feel at least a tiny bit better.

So, hesitating awkwardly for a moment, at last she reached over and shoved him hard in the shoulder, nearly toppling him over.

"Hey," she muttered. "Come on, Pipsqueak. At least you _did _something."

But Yonten just shook his head again in futile sorrow. "Katara is never going to forgive me for this."

Toph sighed. "Oh. Yeah, she will," she finally replied. "You know why?"

He glanced at her tentatively. "Why?"

"One, because she's a nice person. Two, because it's not your fault – _really_, it's not. And three, because…" She paused, feeling a little embarrassed, but pressing onward, "_because_, Pipsqueak, think about it this way. If you hadn't had the guts to leave your cozy little Lion Turtle island and come out here, then she would never have had a chance to save Aang at all. And that's – I mean, that's definitely something. So… yeah. Don't worry about it."

Yonten actually allowed himself a feeble smile then, and his face began to turn red.

After a long pause, Toph, feeling increasingly awkward from all this sincerity and niceness, couldn't stand it anymore and rose suddenly to her feet. "Anyway," she declared bluntly. "I gotta pee."

Iroh cringed, as Toph meandered off into the forest.

"Too much information, Toph!" he shouted, shaking his head in exasperation at Yonten and Ursa. "She really knows how to kill a moment, doesn't she?"


	23. The Double Slip

_This is my freakin' author's note. Wha-a-a-at!_

_Sorry, I'm feeling rather hyper/sleep deprived right now, for various reasons. Here's a little Zuko chapter for you! Please enjoy!_

_P.S. According to my calculations, we shall be arriving at the North Pole in... soon. Ha! Can't tell you when. You'll just have to keep waiting. Tee-hee!_

_DISCLAIMER: I guess I'm still doing these disclaimers on every chapter, just because. Nothing in this story belongs to me, and I have no hope of ever being professionally involved in any way with "Avatar: the Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. *cries pathetically, eats cookie, returns to writing time-wasting fanfiction*_

* * *

><p><strong>THE DOUBLE-SLIP<strong>

Before the sun rose on the morning of the escape, the Fire Palace slept, still and silent as a tomb. The only sounds to be heard anywhere came from the guards whispering amongst each other as they warily roamed the corridors, and from the cold uncanny breezes that rolled against the windows out of the misty pre-dawn darkness outside, and from the troubled Fire Lord in his chamber as he rolled out of his bed, groaning and massaging away an ache that had been throbbing in his head all night.

"Are you well, Fire Lord Zuko?" asked Captain Ji, who stood alert by the bedroom doors. The guards in the room had changed shifts about an hour ago, and Zuko had heard it all, though he'd pretended to be asleep. He'd been pretending to sleep all night, but couldn't bear it any longer.

"Just a headache," Zuko murmured, standing and stretching wearily.

Suki and Tenzin lay sound asleep on the other side of the room, curled up with Momo between them, on the extra bed that had been brought in after Azula's last attack on Tenzin. It had been over a week since that night, yet nothing had been seen or heard of Azula anywhere during that time. She hadn't attacked anyone, or disturbed a single thing in the palace; she'd made herself vanish, right into the walls. The idea that maybe she was actually just _gone_ – maybe she'd fled the palace, and the city, altogether – had been planted in Zuko's mind a few days ago. But it hadn't helped alleviate his anxiety. If anything, Azula's silence had only increased his paranoia. It was exactly what she wanted, too. He knew she wanted him to doubt himself, to doubt everything, to start looking for her everywhere, to lose sleep because every small noise in the palace at night might or might not be her, to wonder what she was planning next and when it was coming and why it hadn't come yet, to worry that she knew something he didn't want her to know, to start questioning if maybe she wasn't actually a phantom or a nightmare after all…

It had worked. Zuko hated that it had worked, but it had. He hadn't slept normally in days.

Exhaling restlessly, Zuko walked to the window in his room and threw it open, allowing the clammy wind of the wee hours to come flooding into the room. It smelled like dew and darkness, and Zuko leaned against the sill and tried to focus on the soothing feeling of it brushing over his skin, rather than on the million other thoughts his mind had been aching with.

The guards in the room behind him watched him at the window. He didn't like being watched like this, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Down below his window, the open courtyard of the palace entrance lay stretched quietly out toward the gates, its marble tiled pavement painted with smooth, pearly moonlight. A guard here and there sometimes meandered by in the open space of the courtyard, but otherwise it was deserted. Every shadow was razor-sharp and inky black - even the shadows of tiny fallen leaves on the pavement - contrasting with the silver-white moonlight in a striking way.

Zuko sighed again and closed his eyes tightly, hoping to crush the headache away.

It wasn't just Azula's disappearance that had been keeping him awake, and he knew it. It wasn't just the paranoia. Part of it was the stress of the escape itself, the pressure of knowing that it had to be pulled off _exactly _right, and if the slightest detail went wrong…

If only they'd been able to leave days ago, but there was too much that needed to be prepared, and it couldn't be done in a day. Zuko loathed this _waiting_; every day increased the worry that something would go wrong, that some message wouldn't arrive at its destination, that some information might be intercepted, that Azula might catch on somehow, that Azula had already caught on and the whole elaborate plan was nothing but a joke that had already failed before it began.

And the escape itself – Zuko felt a nauseous nervousness about it that could almost be called stage fright. The whole thing _was _something of a performance, after all; a performance that all of their lives might depend on; and he was in the starring role.

He swallowed hard. He'd never liked performing.

On top of all that, there were so many other things troubling him that, honestly, he had no choice but to bury them as deeply in his mind as possible – at least, for now. Katara was gone – on her way to the North Pole at this very moment, glad to be leaving him and this entire chapter of her life behind, glad to be throwing her whole life away for the sake of trying to revive a past happiness that was never coming back. And then, besides Katara, there was also…

When was the last time he'd spoken to Uncle? Actually _spoken _to him, in person? What was the last thing he'd ever said to him? He had no idea – it had probably been something trite and meaningless. When had he last shared a warm cup of tea with him? When had he last bothered to tear himself away from his royal duties and pay him a visit in Ba Sing Se? A few months ago? A year ago? Zuko couldn't remember, but he knew it had been far too long. Why couldn't he have made time to visit more often? He _really_ couldn't have spared a little time for the man who had essentially raised him, who had done _everything _for him, who had made him who he was? Or was he just too busy being the Fire Lord to deal with such petty inconveniences?

And what was the last thing he'd said to Ursa? He couldn't remember that either. He couldn't even remember when they'd last talked before she'd gone to see Uncle. Where had they been? What had they been doing? He couldn't recall what she'd looked like the day she left, what she'd said to him, or – and this was the thought that haunted him most – if he had even said good-bye to her at all. Had he remembered to tell her he loved her before she left? Did she know? Or had he been too preoccupied with other things, too wrapped up in himself to pay attention to her? _Why _hadn't he paid more attention to her? Why hadn't he made _sure_, every hour of every day – even if it drove her insane – why hadn't he made completely, totally _sure _that she knew that she was loved, and important, and beautiful, and wanted?

She had so many dreams, so many ideas. She was going to be a prodigy. She was going to be so much like her mother, but with a droll wit that would become uniquely hers. She was going to amaze everyone, and change the world, and fall in love and have babies and grand-babies and…

Zuko's hands clutched the windowsill, fingers burning with tremulous heat, as his body began to quake in anguish. He smothered the heat in his hands and crossed his arms fiercely, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and focused on breathing. Just breathing. Nothing else.

_No. Not right now_.

He had to stop this. He couldn't let these thoughts consume him. Not now.

Not on the day of the big performance. The elaborate 'double-slip,' as Suki had called it. It was complex and precarious. He had to be in control of himself. He had to keep himself together. Everything depended on it. Tenzin and Suki depended on it – especially Tenzin. And Tenzin –

He was going to make sure he did things right this time. He'd do whatever it took to make Tenzin safe. He wouldn't let Azula get her hands on him. He'd make sure that Tenzin knew he was safe, and wanted, and loved. He wasn't going to be so careless this time.

Suddenly, down below him in the open air of the courtyard, a strange figure darted by – dashing across the open space – appearing with her razor-black shadow like a flash in the moonlight, and vanishing once again.

Zuko's heart stopped. _Azula!_

Frantically, he whirled around and darted toward the doors of his room. The guards all jumped in surprise at his sudden movement, and Captain Ji was nearly thrown to the ground as Zuko desperately shoved him aside to get out the door.

"Fire Lord!" the captain cried, while he and all the other guards instantly reacted, gathering around to either follow Zuko or restrain him – whatever was necessary.

"It's her!" Zuko cried, his voice strangely shrill. "She's in the courtyard!"

With all the anxiety that had been building up pressure inside him for the past few days, he could barely contain himself. He tore through the doors and raced into the hall, and about half the guards rushed faithfully after him, while the others stayed to keep watch over Suki and Tenzin. Captain Ji was right at Zuko's heels, and any other guards they passed in the hallway were immediately swept up in the pursuit.

Speeding through corridors and down staircases at a speed he didn't even know he was capable of, Zuko mentally cursed his palace for being so large and sprawling. His head throbbed in sync with his pounding heart. It was her – he was sure of it – they were going to catch her – they had to catch her – why couldn't they get there faster? – why was it so damn far away? – she'd surely be gone by the time they got there – there was no chance – she'd be gone again, he knew it –

Zuko burst through the great entrance of the palace, throwing all his weight into the doors, and he tore out into the wide, silent openness of the courtyard, flames bursting from his fists and nostrils.

"Azula!" he roared, eyes darting in all directions, scanning the shadows.

The guards instantly spread out, poised and ready for an attack, and they began scouring every corner of the courtyard and the dark colonnades surrounding it. Zuko himself ran towards the wall, in the direction he'd seen her go, and slipped into the shadowy cloisters that ran along the inside of the wall, around the perimeter of the courtyard. His eyes blazed with frantic intensity as he scrutinized the darkness. Where was she? She had to be close by, she _had _to be. There wasn't time for her to go far. Where _was _she? Where did she go?

Had she bounded straight over the wall?

Had she dissolved into thin air?

The courtyard was utterly silent, save for the rapid footfalls of the guards as they searched. She was gone again. _Again_.

They searched the courtyard for several minutes, meticulously investigating every dark corner, trying to imagine every possible place for her to hide or flee. But she was nowhere. Burning with frustration, Zuko snarled and punched one of the columns fiercely, flames exploding from his knuckles. His hand pulsed with shattering pain, but he didn't care.

Then, after circling the courtyard several times, Zuko passed by the great doors of the palace - the doors he and his guards had come through only moments before - and through the narrow crack between the doors, in the dim fore-chamber inside, he glimpsed a ghostly figure fleeing.

Without even bothering to alert the guards, Zuko slipped silently through the narrow opening, back into the palace, and stealthily, silently pursued the figure alone.

He chased the phantom for what seemed like a painfully long time, passing through gallery after gallery, until he lost track of his quarry completely and began to wonder if he wasn't just hallucinating. At last, he stood alone, breathing hard, in one of the palace's many luxurious bath chambers, having run his pursuit to a dead end. The silence was so complete that Zuko felt it might swallow him up.

_How did I get here__? What have I been chasing?_

Clearly, Azula hadn't run this way. He wondered if she'd even really been in the palace at all. Perhaps she _had _bounded over the wall of the courtyard, and fled away from the palace. Perhaps he'd only been seeing things. Was he really so stressed out that he was seeing things now?

He just needed to get a grip. Needed to calm down. Think about this rationally.

Wandering back out of the bath chamber and into the long hall he'd come through moments before, Zuko shook his head and stumbled a bit, taking a moment to lean against the wall and compose himself. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and pressed his fingers into his eyelids. His head was splitting open with the migraine, now doubled in intensity thanks to the sudden burst of frantic adrenaline brought on by his delusional chase.

When he opened his eyes again, there - at the end of the corridor, lingering beside a column - was a ghost, watching him intently.

Zuko squinted. His heart leaped. "Mom?"

The ghost turned and vanished, slipping away into a small side gallery, her strange robes and long dark hair fluttering behind her.

Zuko ran. He ran after the ghost, following her into the side gallery. He couldn't breathe. It couldn't be her - it was impossible -

Why was she here? How could she be here?

Why would she run away from him?

Was it her he'd been chasing this whole time? Was he still seeing things? He had to be. It was impossible that it was really her!

He knew it was impossible, yet still he ran, chasing the vision of his mother down more winding galleries until he realized he'd nearly circled all the way back to the front entrance.

And there, in the great fore-chamber of the palace, he stopped.

A thick, dark liquid was dripping from the ceiling, falling in a puddle at the center of the chamber. Zuko looked up, stomach churning.

A man was dangling from the ceiling, suspended upside-down, tied with chains around his legs. It was one of Zuko's guards, one of the men that had come down to search for Azula in the courtyard. His throat was slit, and a steady trickle of blood fell from the ceiling to the floor. He had a rolled up message clutched in his hand.

After days and days of silence, Azula had struck again at last.

Zuko instantly reeled against the wall and cried out in horror when he realized what it was that was dripping, and saw the terrible spectacle. He slid to the floor and struggled not to be sick, hands quivering as he tore his fingers through his hair and rubbed his face fiercely. The entire room spun dizzily around him.

Hearing Zuko's cry, Captain Ji and the other guards soon swarmed into the chamber, some from the courtyard outside and some from the surrounding halls, having come searching for him. Several of them also unleashed horrified exclamations at the gruesome sight, and some turned away, while others merely gawked, transfixed in morbid awe.

The captain immediately went to Zuko, placing a hand on his arm. "Fire Lord, are you all right? Did she do anything to you?"

Zuko shook his head, unable to speak. His stomach lurched a bit, but he managed to keep himself composed for the most part.

Moments later, the guards had all carefully lowered the murdered man to the floor, and the captain took the note that had been folded up in his hand. He scanned the contents of the note quickly, with a grim expression, and handed it to Zuko.

Zuko hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling.

The last time Azula had left him a note in the hand of someone whose throat she'd slit, it was Mai's. Mai's hand who held the note; Mai's throat that had been slit; Mai's blood collecting in a puddle. Zuko felt all the horror and anguish from five years ago - the day that he'd discovered Azula's first murder - the day he'd found his wife's lifeless body in the streets - all rising up again, just as fresh and vivid and devastating as before.

He took the note and read it.

_"Let the chase begin, dear brother_."

He took a deep breath, and, without a word, burned the note up into ashes. Then he turned to the captain with an expression of such black, defiant rage that, for a moment, the captain subconsciously backed away a step.

"Wake up Suki and Tenzin," he whispered urgently. "It's time for us to go."

* * *

><p>They boarded General Hazu's ship without incident, in the misty grayness of the early morning as it was just poised to break over the Fire Nation. Tenzin held Zuko's hand as they walked up the gangplank, and he rubbed his eye sleepily and yawned. Suki came silently on board behind them, followed by an entourage of soldiers.<p>

"Where are we going?" Tenzin asked Zuko quietly.

"It's a secret," Zuko replied.

"Oh," Tenzin mumbled, smiling drowsily. "So... it's like a secret adventure, right?"

"Yeah, Tenzin. We're going on a secret adventure. Are you excited?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, his eyelids shutting heavily for a moment. Then he stirred, and looked around in bewilderment. "But - where's Momo?"

Zuko was about to reply, when they were approached by General Hazu, who bowed respectfully.

"Fire Lord Zuko," said the General solemnly. "The ship is completely secure. We are ready to embark for the Earth Kingdom, at your command."

"Let's be off," Zuko nodded.

The gangplank was lifted and, without show or ceremony, the Fire Lord departed from his country on the ship headed for the Earth Kingdom. Several of his councilors stood on the docks, gravely watching him leave, with no guarantee that this would not be the last time they ever saw him. As the ship sailed out into the open waters, Zuko couldn't help but cast a lingering gaze back. He stood at the railing of the ship, the salty wind stirring his long hair, and Tenzin leaned beside him, wrapped in a blanket and dozing.

Below, the sheer metal hull of the ship fell straight down, chopping through dark waves. The massive ship itself hardly swayed at all, large and powerful enough to cut through the sea without effort. Its engines growled somewhere far below, and the churning water whispered in its wake.

Zuko wondered grimly if Azula was on the ship at that very moment, and where she might be hiding. Perhaps right below his feet.

Soon, Suki came up beside him, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little at her touch, then gazed back out at the sight of the Fire Nation's shore drifting further and further away.

"Do you think this is the right thing to do, Suki?" he asked quietly. "Leaving my country, running away like a coward."

"You're not a coward, Zuko."

"But still - I feel like I'm just abandoning everyone. I'm the Fire Lord; I should be here. Is it right for me to leave everything behind and just _hope _that things will take care of themselves until I return?"

"You didn't really have much of a choice. Don't worry about it."

He hesitated, closing his eyes. "And what if I don't come back? What if something goes wrong?"

Suki sighed. "Zuko - "

"No." He shook his head. "I know what you're going to say. You're gonna tell me that I shouldn't talk like that, and I _am _gonna come back. But you don't know that. No one knows that. And I don't think I can just ignore the possibility that - "

"Actually," she interrupted him firmly, "I was going to say that, even if something _does _go wrong, you've done the best you could with the situation. And I think you've covered all your bases well enough that the country won't completely fall apart, even in the worst case scenario. And, anyway, you can't worry about it now. There are certain things that are just out of your control, Zuko."

Zuko glanced at her, rather sadly, and unleashed a weary sigh. "Yeah, I know." He paused thoughtfully for a while, brushing his fingers lightly through Tenzin's soft black tufts of hair, then murmured, "Thanks, Suki."

She smiled a bit. "No problem." Then she patted his shoulder and turned to walk away, but not before glancing back and adding, "Still, Zuko, for the record - you shouldn't talk like that, because you _will _come back. We're _all _coming back. Okay?"

He couldn't help a small smile; after another pensive silence, he nodded quietly at her. "Right. Okay, I won't talk like that anymore."

"Good."

And so the escape began.

* * *

><p>Approximately ten miles out of the city, far across the waves that glistened in the morning sunlight, another ship was spotted, headed in their direction. It was a smaller ship - one designed for short, leisurely passages - unlike Hazu's massive military frigate. Zuko, Suki and Tenzin had all gone below for a quick rest, but hurried up onto the deck as soon as the other ship was in sight.<p>

"It's General Ma Ten," Suki smiled with satisfaction. "Right on schedule."

"Here we go," Zuko muttered.

"What is it?" Tenzin asked, squinting out over the waves. "Are we getting on that boat?"

Zuko nodded quietly at him. "Just stay close to me, Tenzin."

Moments later, the other ship pulled up alongside them, and General Ma Ten saluted them from the deck. "All aboard for Ember Island!" he called, grinning.

General Hazu approached Zuko and bowed reverently to him. "Good luck, Fire Lord," he said. "Let's hope we're one step ahead of Azula this time."

Zuko smirked slightly. "I hope we are, General."

A plank was raised between the two ships, and Zuko, Tenzin and Suki crossed over. As soon as they were safely across, Hazu raised the plank and bowed once more, and his great frigate continued on its way, while their little ship turned and began its course to Ember Island.

"Where do you think Azula is right now?" Suki asked Zuko a few minutes later.

Zuko shrugged. "Maybe still on Hazu's ship. Maybe on this one. Maybe on her way to Ember Island to be there before us."

"Why are we going to Ember Island, Zuko?" Tenzin asked, tugging at Zuko's sleeve with a perplexed frown. He gestured for Zuko to lean in closer, and whispered secretively, "I thought we were going to see Momma?"

Zuko put a finger to his lips, and smiled subtly at the little Airbender. "We are, Tenzin. Just wait."

So Tenzin waited. And sure enough, almost an hour later, as he was lounging against the railing of the ship and mesmerizing himself with the rolling waves below, something interesting happened.

There was a deep rumble, as if from the bowels of the ocean itself. The entire ship shuddered beneath his feet. Tenzin sprang back from the railing, eyes wide with fright and confusion, thinking that the ship was sinking. But an instant later, Zuko was there, and he scooped the little boy lightly up into his arms, and took off sprinting down the deck of the ship, with Suki following close behind.

"What's happening?" Tenzin cried. Soldiers and sailors were scurrying about the ship's deck like ants whose nest had been disturbed.

"Don't be scared, Tenzin," Zuko whispered hastily as he ran. "It's all part of the plan."

As everyone else hurried to get above decks, shouting frantic exclamations of fright, cries of sabotage, and orders to be sure the ship hadn't collided with anything - Zuko, Tenzin and Suki slipped below, deep into the ship's interior. Zuko's feet pounded on the steps, and he panted with urgency and exhilaration and the effort of carrying Tenzin. Suki kept right on his heels, glancing back over her shoulder now and then to be sure no one was following them.

Then, deep in the bowels of the ship, in one of the cabins near the ship's stern, Zuko dropped Tenzin onto his feet and slammed the cabin door behind them, locking it with shaking fingers. Suki, meanwhile, rushed to the cabin's window and unlatched it. A burst of sea air wafted into the little room, flavored with salty ocean spray.

"This is gonna be kinda tricky, isn't it?" she said flatly, staring out the window.

The surface of the ocean swelled before them, just a short drop below the window. And alongside the ship, rising from the dark depths of the sea, a large black shape began to emerge. Zuko came and stood beside her at the window, heart racing, as the submarine surfaced. Its flat, narrow top rested flush with the surface of the water, and almost before it had completely emerged, a hatch door swung open and a tall man scrambled out: General Ashiro. He didn't say a word, merely waved and gestured for them to come quickly.

"Out the window, huh?" Suki smirked. "Piece of cake."

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed both sides of the window frame and hoisted herself up, squeezing through the small space with some slight difficulty. But after a moment of struggle, she pulled herself through and leaped, landing relatively gracefully on the surface of the submarine. General Ashiro helped her steady herself, and then they both turned to help Zuko and Tenzin.

"Can you jump that, Tenzin?" Zuko asked with concern.

Tenzin (who looked utterly thrilled by all this excitement) glanced at Zuko and scoffed rather disdainfully, with a dismissive wave of his hand. _"Please."_

Then, quickly, he climbed up onto the window and, taking a deep breath, sprang lightly into the air, fluttering onto the submarine's surface like a windblown leaf. Suki and Ashiro caught him as he landed, and their hair and clothes fluttered in the small breeze he stirred up.

Zuko came last, and once he'd landed safely as well, they climbed down into the submarine, shut the hatch door behind them, and the great vessel submerged once more. Meanwhile General Ma Ten's ship, still buzzing with troubled soldiers and sailors, continued on its course to Ember Island with almost no awareness of the three passengers that had just slipped silently away, or the submarine that vanished into the sea as if it had never been there at all.

The three escapees all collapsed gratefully into an exhausted pile by the wall of the submarine's dim interior, just breathing for a few moments. All around them, in the dark rippling light that filtered in through the underwater windows, engineers and navigators bustled busily to keep the complicated vessel running smoothly. And General Ashiro stood over them, bowing solemnly and grinning - he seemed rather exhilarated by the adventure himself.

"Good morning, Fire Lord," he said cheerfully. "And good morning, Miss Suki. And you, Tenzin. It is a great honor to have you on our humble vessel."

Tenzin, still panting from the rush, beamed at him, stood, bowed very deeply, and then slumped back down in a pile on the floor again.

"Glad you all could make it," Ashiro went on, clearly enjoying every minute of this job. "I have your merchant ship ready and waiting for you in Fire Fountain City; it's thoroughly secure and inconspicuously ordinary, and also surprisingly cozy when you fix it up right. We should be there in about two hours, with a few necessary breaks to surface again along the way. As soon as we arrive, I'll be happy to escort you wherever you want to go."

Zuko was still breathing hard, and he wiped some sweat and sea water from his forehead. But he was grinning broadly - almost laughing. They'd done it. The double-slip. The difficult part was over; they were finally on their way, and Azula would never know where they'd gone. The thrill of success, of outwitting Azula, of escaping so completely, filled him with a strange and glorious satisfaction.

"Thank you, General Ashiro," Zuko finally said, standing and shaking the young general's hand. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"So, what is our destination, my lord?"

"The North Pole."

Ashiro gaped at him for a moment, taken aback.

"Please," Zuko added politely after a moment.

The young general raised his eyebrows, but then smiled and nodded. "The North Pole it is, Your Highness." He turned away for a moment, then stopped. "Oh! I almost forgot to add, I had some food and drinks brought on board, too. You'll all get to enjoy a fine lunch before our arrival in Fire Fountain City."

Tenzin and Suki both beamed excitedly and cheered in gratitude, and Zuko just grinned quietly. "Thank you, Ashiro," he said again, with great enthusiasm. "Remind me to give you a promotion when we get back home."

* * *

><p>Evening fell gently over the ocean, washing the world in tranquil gold and violet. Zuko stood at the bow of the ship: this unremarkable merchant freighter that carried no merchandise, other than the three very valuable passengers now on their way to the North Pole and safety. He had his eyes closed, meditating on the endless rush and murmur of the ocean below, letting the wild, cold breezes of the sea brush against his skin. His mind was wandering back through memory after memory - his years at sea with Uncle, his desperate and futile hunt for the Avatar. He'd been so young and stupid back then, and so obsessed with his supposed "destiny" that he'd never allowed himself to fully enjoy small, beautiful things like this: like a sunset over the ocean.<p>

But now he was older, and wiser, and he'd just slipped (or double-slipped) right out of the grasp of a chaotic, murderous nightmare. So this time, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it with all his might, as thoroughly as he could, and it drove away the worries and sorrows throbbing in his head, and lulled him into a state of forgetful peace. At least, for now.

Down below, in a storage room that had been transformed into a makeshift cabin for Suki and Tenzin, she was tucking the little Airbender into bed. His bedtime was usually much later than this, but after all the excitement of the escape, he was completely drained.

Though he was in fierce denial at the moment, and fighting a desperate battle against oncoming sleep.

"It's too early to sleep," he argued at Suki, even as he succumbed to a massive yawn.

"You know you're about to pass out, right?" she commented snidely.

"No'm not," he protested, frowning at her. "We're on an _adventure_, Aunt Suki! Just like Momma and Zuko and Avatar Aang when they were kids! I bet _they _didn't go to bed this early on _their _adventures."

"Ahem." She gave him an indignant look. "_I _was on a lot of those adventures too, if you recall. And also your Uncle Sokka and Auntie Toph. Why were we left out of the list? Hm?"

Tenzin rolled his eyes and ignored her question. "So did _you_ go to bed this early?"

She sighed, shifting her eyes. "... Sometimes."

"No, you didn't!"

"Well, who cares? That argument doesn't even make sense," she shook her head. "Now stop arguing. We've got a long way to go before we get to the North Pole."

"We've been on the water all day!" he cried. "We've gotta be close, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, we're definitely closer than we were when we left eight hours ago."

"Maybe we'll see Momma and Uncle Sokka on Appa!" he said, grinning. "Maybe we'll catch up to them, and see them flying in the sky, and we'll be like, 'Hey, it's us!' And they'll be like, 'What? How did you guys get here?' And we'll be like, 'We did this crazy escape where we went on a boat, and then got on another one, and then I jumped onto a submarine, and - '"

"Yeah," she said slowly, laughing a little. "You might wanna leave out some of the more dangerous parts when you tell your mom. Like jumping onto a submarine."

"Can I go up on the deck and look at the sky?" he asked eagerly, springing up in bed and forcing her to push him back down and tuck him in again. "Can I go look with Zuko? Can I go look for Appa?"

"No, Tenzin," she said sternly. "It'll be a while before we catch up to them. In fact, we probably won't see them at all until we get to the North Pole."

He grumbled for a moment, then yawned again, then looked at her with a drowsy grin. "Tell me a story!"

She chuckled. "Okay. What do you want to hear?"

"Tell me about Avatar Aang and the pirates. 'Cause we're on a pirate ship."

"It's not a pirate ship. It's just a regular ship."

"Tell me the story!"

Suki frowned with thought for a moment. "All right. Aang and the pirates... Uh, I'm not sure I remember that one."

"What!" he cried. "You don't know it? Okay, then I'll tell you. Momma's told me a _million _times. So, once upon a time, Avatar Aang and Momma and Uncle Sokka were in this place, doing this thing, and there were some pirates, and they met the pirates, and Momma saw a scroll with some stuff on it, and Avatar Aang said, 'ONE COPPER PIECE!' and then..."

He passed out, almost instantly, like a candle blowing out.

Suki fought the urge to laugh, for fear of waking him up - though he looked like he was too far gone to be woken even if she pulled out a Tsungi horn and started playing in his ear. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she stood.

"Not gonna pass out, huh?" she whispered, grinning. "Sleep tight. Great story, by the way."

Then she yawned herself, stretching her back wearily, blissfully thinking about how wonderful her own bed would be at this very moment. But it was too early to sleep.

She wondered what Sokka was doing right now. It was strange, to be away from him for so long. Not that she was really the type of girl who needed him around _all _the time; in fact, she'd probably kill him if he was around all the time. But she was rather surprised by how much she'd been missing him. She needed her cuddling time; Momo just didn't cut it. He _really_ didn't cut it.

Speaking of that - where _was _Momo, anyway? They left him at home! Oops. Hopefully someone would remember to feed him...

Suki was only mildly concerned for a moment, then shrugged. If no one fed him, Momo was perfectly capable of scrounging up his own food. He probably wouldn't even notice they were gone.

Sleepily pondering all these small, insignificant things, and unbelievably relieved simply that she was finally free to relax and allow herself to ponder such small, insignificant things at her leisure, Suki meandered across the wide space of the makeshift cabin, and lazily opened the door to head up on deck and see what Zuko was up to.

As soon as she opened the door, she let out a scream of horror and stumbled back, covering her mouth and fighting down vomit.

In the hall outside the cabin door, one of Ashiro's soldiers was lying slumped in a lifeless pile against the wall. His neck had been broken, and his head was twisted at a grotesque angle, the dead eyes staring up at her. In his hand, he clutched a small, folded up note.

No -

No - she couldn't have - it was impossible.

Suki's stomach twisted and her heart battered her chest. She clenched her fists and shook her head violently, overcome with horror and frustration and consuming rage. She couldn't have! She _couldn't _have! The escape was perfect! They were supposed to be safe now - everything had gone according to plan - it was all _perfect. _They were supposed to finally have gotten away, to _finally _be free and safe and no longer plagued by the constant anxiety of being hunted. This couldn't be happening - it _couldn't_ - it wasn't possible!

Trembling and dizzy, Suki reached down to the dead man and took the note from his hand. Her fingers shook almost too much for her to unfold it, and the words of the note swam before her eyes.

_"You're going to have to do better than that._"

Immediately, Suki dropped the note and spun on her heels, racing back to Tenzin's bed and gathering him into her arms, blankets and all. He woke up and uttered some confused mumbles, but she didn't hear him. She only clutched him tightly and ran out of that room - out into the hall and up the stairs to the deck as fast as she could, all the while imagining that Azula was coming behind her, right behind her, and she'd never make it, she'd be struck down any second by a knife or a blast of fire or a bolt of lightning -

But she burst out onto the deck without being attacked, and nearly dropped Tenzin in her frantic haste. Everything was somehow hazy and sharp all at the same time, and her head thudded with savage terror.

"Zuko!" she shrieked, spotting him on the deck.

He turned and looked at her - at the wild, hunted fear in her eyes, and the sleepy, confused boy in her arms - and his entire body went cold in an instant, and he knew. He knew before she even said it.

"She's here!" Suki gasped. "She's on the ship with us!"


	24. An Unexpected Meeting

_So, this chapter and the next one were meant to be one chapter, but it was getting way too freakishly long, and I felt that I was rushing through it. Thus, I had to make the difficult decision of splitting it apart into two… And, heh heh, yeah. You know that prediction I made back in Ch. 20, that I'd finish this thing in 12 more chapters? Yeah… that's not gonna happen. Oh well!_ :D

_I can't believe I'm still writing this story instead of all the other things I should be doing. Like… stuff that would actually be profitable to me in real life. Ha, real life. But anyway, I'm excited! This chapter is where things start coming together finally! I'm just so impatient to get these people to the North Pole, it's killing me! But, of course, these things can't be rushed. It's all gotta happen the way it's supposed to happen._

Aang: _*pokes Rain&Roses's arm_* "Hey, when am I gonna come back into this story? I miss everyone!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>pats Aang on the head<em>* "Have patience, my dear Airbender. We all miss you too. Here, have a custard tart while you wait."  
>Aang: *<em>drools<em>* "Custard tart! How did you know? _Om nom nom nom…_!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "That should keep him occupied for a while. Anyway, back to the story!"<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN UNEXPECTED MEETING<strong>

Hrmph. Tired.

Appa is Tired.

He's been Tired for a long time – a very, very long time.

No, even longer than that.

The last time Appa _wasn't _Tired was back when things were Good, before he lost his good Airbender, his only Aang. Ever since that bad, rainy Dark Day when his own poor Aang was taken away by the great horrible Monster of the Changing Faces, with all its terrible claws and its awful dark voice, it has been a lot harder for Appa to do Things. He just never feels like it. Things are too hard to do.

Appa always remembers that Dark Day – he can never forget the Monster – every day Appa knows the Feeling of losing his only Aang. It's a cold, empty Feeling. It makes him heavy and sick. And he is always feeling it, again and again and again. Because he is always missing his Aang. That's why he's always so Tired.

But today, Appa is really, really _extra _Tired.

He's been flying for a long time, carrying lots of People. The last time he's flown so far, for so many days and days, is when he used to carry his good, light Aang on Important Trips all over the World. Back then he didn't get as Tired, because he wasn't sad. Being sad is Tiring Business.

Also, because these People are a lot harder to carry than his good little Air Human, who was so Light that Appa could hardly feel him when they used to Fly together. But these People aren't Light – Appa can _definitely _feel them. Especially the old Uncle-Man, the one that good Katara-Wife keeps fussing over with her Glowing Water. That guy is extra Heavy – and he smells funny too. He's nice, though; but mostly, he is Heavy. Everyone is.

Appa doesn't mind carrying all the little Humans who can't Fly. They can't help it that they can't Fly, after all, and he's glad to be helpful. He just wishes they were a little less Heavy.

But still, Mister Sokka keeps making him Yip Yip. Appa thinks that Mister Sokka probably feels bad because he can tell that Appa is Tired (Mister Sokka is always Good, and so is Suki-Woman). But he still keeps making him Yip Yip anyway because they're in a Hurry. It's an Important Trip, see, so they must go Fast. Appa doesn't know why it's important, but he tries to Yip Yip Fast anyway. It's just hard, that's all.

Appa wishes the Chatty Momo-Thing was around so he could tell him all about his Tiredness. The Humans don't understand, even though they try to. But the Momo-Thing is Somewhere Else right now. Probably sleeping.

Hrmph.

Stupid Momo-Thing.

He has it so easy, just because he's Small. It isn't fair, just not fair.

"Re're gabmost blere, Appa," says Mister Sokka in a nice voice, patting Appa's head. "Drust a iddle barder. I mow oo're Tired."

_Tired!_ Yes. Very.

But still Appa grunts and keeps on Flying, keeps on Yip-Yipping, because it's Important and they all need him. He can't give up.

"Hey, Appa, drust bink adou gis," says the Loud Dirt-Girl, Toph, leaning over Appa's saddle close to his head, so he can hear. "Hif oo bro Faster, you'll det do fee Aang rooner!"

_Aang!_

"Non't bush im, Toph!" Mister Sokka says to the Dirt-Girl.

But Appa Flies a little bit Faster, and feels a little less Tired than before. All the Humans have been always saying his Aang's Name over and over again for lots of days now, and Appa feels excited. Maybe they need to Fly Fast because they are going to find his lost Aang! Maybe that's why it's so Important. If that's it, then Appa doesn't mind being Tired, and he doesn't even mind carrying the fat Uncle-Man. Not at all.

"Dook, git rorked, Sokka!" the Dirt-Girl Toph says. "Ee's broing Faster dow. Fee? Appa mows rut's broing gon."

"I buess po," says Mister Sokka.

Appa doesn't know what's going on, but he hopes it's Good. He hopes it will make his missing Aang come back. If that happens, Appa knows he will never be Tired again in his whole Life.

* * *

><p>The weary group and their weary bison finally arrived back in the Fire Nation, fourteen days after they'd left, and fourteen days before the Solstice. Despite their previous optimism, they were running behind schedule, and the pressure was wearing on everyone. Especially Katara, who was losing so much sleep that she was having trouble focusing on Uncle's healing (though, by her own admission, he <em>had <em>greatly improved, and he himself claimed to be feeling perfectly fine). Sokka assumed that Katara wasn't sleeping because of the stress – worrying about Uncle, worrying about Aang, worrying about Tenzin. She had a tendency to gather up all the worries within arm's reach and pile them up on her own back.

That was certainly part of why she hadn't been sleeping, but Katara had still told no one of her real reason for avoiding sleep: her last dream about Aang, his broken-hearted appeal that she give up the quest entirely – and her own primal terror of having to face him again and hear the same message once more, knowing that she was no closer to saving him than when she'd started, and losing precious time all the while.

She also had not spoken a word to Yonten for the past few days, not since his shameful confession about the Air Nomads' failure to inform her about Aang's plight. The others had all kept up friendly chit-chat with him – even Sokka, albeit rather begrudgingly – but Katara had erased him from existence in her mind. A rational voice in her head told her that it wasn't fair for her to place all the blame on him, and he'd done the best he could, and she really ought to be grateful that he'd sacrificed everything he knew for the sake of bringing her the message; grateful because, if not for him, she would never have known what happened to Aang or had a chance to save him at all...

But still.

The deadline was looming dangerously close now. Aang was teetering on the precipice of being lost forever. And if she'd only known five years ago, the deadline wouldn't have even been a concern. If she'd known back then, Tenzin might have grown up with his _actual _father, and heard all the stories of their adventures from his father's own mouth. And Aang could have been there to see his son learn to walk and talk and play and grow and Airbend. But now he'd missed all of that, and he might miss everything else as well.

Five years was so long. So much had happened. So much _could _have happened.

She could have told Aang long ago how sorry she was for her terrible mistake. Instead she was doomed to repeat it, over and over in dark, hopeless nightmares, cursed only to tell it to a constructed dream-version of Aang instead of the real one.

She could have married him long ago, and been happy again. Instead she'd been forced to suffer, tormenting herself day after day with questions of what had happened to him, whether he was dead, whether he'd abandoned them, whether she could have done something to prevent it, whether it was somehow her fault that he was gone –

And now she might be too late. She might really lose him for good. She might have to live out the rest of her days without him – the best friend that she'd been clinging to for all these years, the one she wanted more than anything to spend the rest of her life with. She might instead have to spend her life always missing him, always wondering what could have been, always burdened with the guilt of rejecting him while she was still lucky enough to have him, always haunted with the knowledge that she once had a chance to bring him back and she'd missed it...

And Aang – innocent, joyful, peaceful Aang – he would just be gone. Erased from existence, forever. No second chance, no loophole, no alternative. _Forever_. As if he'd never been.

All because those Airbending cowards hadn't felt the need to get off their lazy, selfish behinds and bring her a little message.

It was too much. Katara needed to be angry at _someone_, even if it wasn't fair, and Yonten was the unfortunate scapegoat. So she wasn't talking to him – he was dead to her. At least for the time being.

Needless to say, with all of them crowded together in Appa's saddle, it had been a rather tense few days of flying.

At last, though, the welcome sight of the Fire Nation capital emerged through the misty morning of the fourteenth day. Sokka brought them in to land in the great courtyard at the front of the palace, and they were greeted by the captain of the guards and a handful of his men, who all looked quite astonished to see them.

"Master Katara!" cried Captain Ji, bowing to her but frowning in bewilderment. "What are you doing here? We weren't expecting you back."

"Iroh's here, with Ursa," Katara replied, leaping to the ground and assisting Toph with helping Uncle climb out of the saddle. "They were attacked by Azula in Ba Sing Se, and he was wounded, so we brought them back here." Once Uncle's feet were on the ground, she turned back to the captain, reflecting his perplexed frown back to him. "What's wrong? Where's Zuko? And Tenzin?"

"And Suki and Momo?" Sokka added, patting Appa down.

Just as he asked, Momo scampered out of the great palace doors into the courtyard, leaping happily onto Sokka's shoulders and quickly busying himself with searching for food in Sokka's hair.

"Well, at least Momo's here," Toph commented with facetious relief.

The captain gave Katara a rather anxious look. "We, uh... we've had some... incidents."

Everyone immediately looked at him, rapt with alarm. Katara's gaze darkened, and her heart began to pound a little faster. "What do you mean?" she asked softly. "What's happened? Where's Tenzin?"

"Um – " he muttered, but Katara was too impatient to wait for him to explain. She shoved him aside and stormed into the palace, bursting through the doors and making a beeline for Tenzin's bedroom.

Sokka instantly handed Momo to Ursa and took off after Katara, his own heart racing in dread. Something was wrong – something had happened – It had to be Azula. It _had _to be. He couldn't imagine anything else. If anything had happened to any of them... Suki! – How could he have left Suki alone, knowing that Azula had been after them for years? He should have known something would happen, and now something had, and he wasn't there to protect her... And Tenzin! No – he was so small – and Sokka was the one who'd insisted on leaving him in the Fire Nation! He was the one who'd convinced Katara that Tenzin would be safer here. If Azula had done anything to him –

_Please let it not be as bad as I think it is,_ he desperately prayed as he raced after his panicked sister.

Astonished guards gasped and leaped out of the way as Katara rushed up the stairs and down the corridors. She barely even noticed that they were there; her eyes only saw the path to Tenzin's door; all her thoughts were focused on her son, her baby. If something had happened to him – she just needed to see him. She needed to see him, and touch him, and hold him in her arms, and hear his voice. Her entire body throbbed with almost inhuman terror, while a million horrible possibilities, every disastrous scenario imaginable, flashed one by one before her eyes, and her heart thudded along with her pounding feet: _Tenzin – my baby – my son – Tenzin – no – no – _

No.

Katara stopped running so suddenly that Sokka almost bowled right over her. They were at the entrance of the hallway that led to Tenzin's room. And there, at the end of the corridor, lay the wreckage of the bedroom: the burnt, demolished doors, the broken chunks of wall, the torn-up bed – everything covered in vicious scorch marks.

"No," she gasped.

Azula had been here.

She'd broken into his bedroom. She'd attacked him, here, where he was supposed to be safe, while he was all alone and unprotected.

"_No_!" she roared through her teeth – horror and rage and overwhelming, shattering pain, all threatening to tear her limb from limb.

Sokka could only gape at the wreckage, the blood draining from his face, imagining the worst, blaming himself, cursing himself for not being here –

But before he could say a word, or even fully process the terrible sight before him, Katara whirled around and barreled past him, taking off running back in the direction she'd come. He didn't know where she was going, but almost instinctively, he ran after her.

She raced back down through the corridors, arriving at last at the entrance to the throne room and bursting through the doors. Inside the great chamber, several of Zuko's councilors were gathered around a table, engrossed in some serious business. Old Take, the eldest Fire Sage, sat at the head of the table. They all jumped in surprise when Katara exploded into the room, and a few of them leaped to their feet. She marched directly up to Take and took hold of him by his shirt, with lightning in her eyes.

"_Where is Tenzin?_" she bellowed. "Tell me where my son is _now_!"

Sokka ran into the throne room, panting, as the startled old man stuttered, "H-he's with Fire Lord Zuko!"

_Alive_. So he was alive. He was with Zuko – he was alive. Sokka couldn't help but breathe a loud sigh of relief, despite the fact that clearly all was still far from well.

Katara, too, exhaled slowly and released the old Sage, though her fists were still clenched. "Okay, then, where is Zuko?"

Some nervous glances passed back and forth between the councilors, and then Take muttered, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" she thundered, looking around at all of them with wrathful anxiety. "Then who _does _know?"

"No one knows, Master Katara," said Councilor Ganlin, in a soft, serious voice.

"What?" She was practically shrieking, and her fists trembled. Sokka watched a glass of water on the table shudder and crack, while the water in it bubbled and began to rise into the air. "Don't lie to me! He's the _Fire Lord_! _Someone's_ got to know where he is!"

"The only one who knows is General Ashiro," Take answered carefully. "But, uh – "

"But what?" she cried. "Where's Ashiro?"

"He's, uh... he's _with _the Fire Lord."

Katara simply stared at the old man for a moment – and then at the rest of the councilors, who were all gaping at her in rather transparent terror. And she suddenly did that vicious scowl, snicker and shake of the head that she only ever did when her fury and exasperation had reached perilously unstable levels. Sokka cringed reflexively: he really hated when she did that. She got mean whenever she did that.

"Of course he is," she snapped fiercely, smirking in a way that meant she was about ready to brutally pummel everyone in the room.

"Look," Sokka intervened, addressing the councilors sternly, "how about we sit down, and you all stop wasting time and tell us what happened. _Now_."

* * *

><p>After Katara and Sokka had stormed into the palace in their panic, the captain and his guards had run in after them, leaving Toph, Iroh, Yonten, Ursa and Momo alone in the courtyard with the gratefully snoozing Appa. A heavy silence descended.<p>

"What do you think happened?" Yonten asked quietly.

"It's Azula!" Ursa whispered, her voice quavering fearfully. She grabbed hold of Uncle's arm and leaned against him, squeezing Momo with her other arm. "Azula got here before us! It has to be her!"

"Not necessarily," Toph said quickly, hoping to calm the girl down, though her remark came out feeble and unconvincing – mostly because Toph herself had immediately thought of Azula too, as soon as the captain mentioned strange "incidents" happening. Of course, there certainly could be other explanations. But at the moment, no other possibility was ringing quite as loudly and forcefully in Toph's mind.

"What if Azula got dad?" Ursa shuddered, breathing rapidly as she succumbed to panic. "And Tenzin? What if they're killed, and now she's gonna kill us too!"

"Ursa," Iroh said gently, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sure that isn't the case. We shouldn't assume the worst until we know more about the situation. In the meantime, I suggest we all try to relax, since we may not have a chance to later."

"Relax?" Toph scoffed at him, feeling impatient and uncharacteristically annoyed, largely because she was, deep down, rather alarmed, and she hated that Azula had the power to make her feel that way. "Uncle! How can you even think about relaxing right now? Azula _blew you up_ last time you saw her! You were almost killed!"

"Yes, but as you just said yourself, Toph," he retorted, a little sternly, "whatever has been happening here does not necessarily have anything to do with Azula. And even if it does, then it still isn't going to do us much good to stand around here imagining the worst. So until we know for sure what's going on, I'm going to use this time to relax. Would you two mind helping me to the garden? I'd like to sit for a while."

So, warily, Toph and Yonten assisted Iroh into the palace and through several chambers toward the entrance to the garden. Ursa trotted along behind them, anxiously glancing over her shoulder, while Momo tried in vain to squirm out of her clutches. Thanks to Katara's healing, the old man was in much better shape than he'd been days before, and now he walked only with a slight limp, though he still winced faintly and stumbled now and then. As they passed through the chambers of the palace, Toph kept alert, ready to take action should she feel any suspicious footfalls nearby. But the halls were silent and mostly deserted, save for a few guards and servants. And so the five of them (including Momo) at last arrived outside in the stillness of the garden, without anything worrisome happening.

Uncle stepped across the garden to the little pond, where the family of turtle ducks swam serenely, and sat himself down on the bank with a heavy sigh. Ursa came and sat beside him, still snuggling Momo like a stuffed toy. The old lemur appeared to have simply given up trying to escape (it was too much work), resigning himself to his fate of being Ursa's comfort pillow for the time being.

As the two of them sat, Yonten and Toph both remained standing. Toph thought that the Airbender seemed rather awkward and uncertain about what to do with himself. For her own part, she would have very much enjoyed being able to sit down and relax – it would have been nice to be as unconcerned as Uncle was – but she just couldn't. She was far too on edge at the moment, and _far _too impatient to sit around and do nothing while they waited for Katara and Sokka.

"I think I'm gonna take a look around," she announced after a few minutes of silence. "I'll be back."

"No worries, we'll be fine here," Iroh nodded languidly. "If you run into Sokka or Katara, let them know we're out here."

Toph grunted a wordless affirmative, and promptly marched off toward the other end of the garden, crossing a small wooden bridge over into a separate area. She walked slowly and precisely, focusing all her concentration on the vibrations in her feet, trying to increase her perimeter of sight to the entire garden, the entire palace – singling out every life form in the vicinity.

The garden's late morning silence _was _very peaceful, she had to admit. But she wouldn't allow it to seep into her blood and make her lethargic. The ever-beating pulses of the earth rippled through her bones, and it was hard for her not to feel too comfortable; hard not to let her mind sink into the quiet rhythms and drift away, zone out. It was hard not to distract herself by savoring the fresh earthy smells that wafted through the garden.

No, no – she couldn't relax. Sure, it seemed safe here, but it wasn't. She had to focus. If Azula _was _anywhere around there, Toph felt confident that she could sniff her out (figuratively speaking), no matter how cleverly she was hiding.

But, unfortunately, as she wandered out of the tranquil garden into a deserted open-air colonnade that ran from one wing of the palace to another, Toph lost focus completely, all her attention slowly drawn away by one bothersome figure in particular. He'd been following her like an extra shadow – a shadow that she could actually see, casually strolling along behind her. A shadow that became increasingly distracting and annoying the longer he was there, especially once he started to hum to himself.

At last, after trying to ignore him for several minutes and finally burning through the last of her meager supply of patience, Toph sighed in exasperation and turned on her heels with a stern frown.

"Is there a reason you're following me around like a lost puppy, Pipsqueak?"

Yonten jumped slightly. "Oh! No, I – I just thought you – might want some company?"

"If I'd wanted company, I'd have asked for it," she replied curtly. She didn't mean to be rude; but honestly, she wasn't in the greatest mood right now, and sparing the Airbender's feelings was not at the top of her priority list at the moment.

"Well," he muttered, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "I was just thinking – I mean, in case you were to find something, I could help – "

"I don't need any help."

"But, are you sure? Because – "

"All right, _look_, buddy," she sighed at last, rubbing her forehead irritably. "I didn't want to have to do this, because it'll probably be embarrassing for you, but I think it's about time you knew something about me. See, I'm pretty good at reading people. I'm _really _good at it, actually. I can tell you've got something going on right now, and it's one of two possible things. Either, Number One: you're scared completely shitless of me; or, Number Two: you've got some sort of little crush on me. It's kinda hard to differentiate between those two emotions sometimes. But – not to be conceited or anything – I'm betting it's the second one, with probably some of the first thrown in. Is that about right?"

"Um – ?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Told you I was good. Wanna know how I do it?"

"Well, uh – "

"I see with my feet. I feel the vibrations in the earth. And that means that I can feel your heartbeat, your breathing – everything. So don't bother trying to deny it. I can tell if you lie to me, too."

"Oh, well, I wasn't – "

"Now, listen. I know I've been sort of nice to you so far. But really that's just 'cause I felt sorry for you, especially after that whole thing that happened with Katara, and also because you seem like a pretty sensitive guy. But I'm _not _your friend, all right? In fact, I'm not generally a super friendly person. So I think it would be better for both of us if you just left me to do my own thing, by myself, and you ran along back to keep an eye on Uncle and Ursa, by _your_self. 'Kay, Pipsqueak? Just… _shoo_. Skedaddle."

And with that, Toph turned and went on her way, expecting that that would be the end of it (and nonchalantly smothering a tiny, prudish voice in her head that tried to scold her for being too hard on the poor little guy).

But instead of leaving her alone, as Toph had assumed he would after her magnificent tirade, the aggravatingly dense Airbender instead just hesitated for a second, and then kept on following her. He even resumed his casual humming.

"What are you doing?" she cried, whirling on him a second time. "Seriously! What's wrong with you? Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

"Well, yes, of course, I heard it all very clearly," he replied, with startling placidity. "You said it all straight to my face, I could hardly miss it. But, I was thinking, just because you told me to, um, _skedaddle_, doesn't mean I actually have to. Am I right?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?" For once, she found herself without an immediate snarky rebuttal. People almost never defied her straight out (because they usually knew they'd regret it), and especially not so… _calmly_. But this guy didn't seem to have any concept of self-preservation. At all.

"Also," he added as an afterthought, still perfectly serene, "I don't like being called 'Pipsqueak,' especially since I'm taller than you. So if you could just call me Yonten from now on, I'd really appreciate it."

She just blinked again. Thought about pounding him into the dirt. _Really _thought about pounding him into the dirt, in glorious violent detail. Then she sighed, rubbed her head wearily, and didn't.

"Great," she muttered, turning and resuming her futile stroll. "An Airbender with a backbone. What are the odds?"

Yonten paused for a moment, trotting after her again and beginning to hum once more.

"Will you _stop _that?" she cried.

"Stop what?"

"That humming! You're making me crazy!"

"Oh, sorry." He stopped humming, still meandering along behind her. Then, after an agonizingly brief silence, he spoke again. "You know, I've never heard anyone use the word _skedaddle_ before. I think I like it."

"Glad I could broaden your vocabulary," she grumbled.

"Do you say _skedaddle_ every time you give that speech to someone?"

"Uh – _what_?" she snarled darkly, sending him a severe, cautionary scowl over her shoulder. "Are you implying that I say the same thing to every guy who gets a crush on me?"

He shrugged. "It just seemed a little rehearsed, that's all. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Pipsqueak – you do know that I can, and _will_, destroy you, right?"

He said absolutely nothing. For a moment she thought maybe she'd successfully frightened him into silence. Until he started humming again.

"What's your problem?" she roared, whirling on him yet a third time.

"Oh, were you addressing me?" he asked, with perfectly tranquil innocence. "My apologies. I thought you were talking to someone named 'Pipsqueak.'"

Toph stomped her right foot into the ground. Instantly, a jut of rock burst out of the pavement, hitting him square in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him, as she'd intended. But unfortunately, it had been a while since Toph had spent time with an Airbender, and so she didn't quite foresee the consequences of knocking the wind out of one while she was standing right in front of him.

She knocked the wind out of him, and the wind knocked the wind out of her.

The sudden gust of air erupted out of him, tossing her backwards. She landed hard on her back, grunting in pain, while Yonten gasped for breath, doubled over. As soon as he could breathe again, though, he burst out laughing hoarsely.

Furious, Toph hastily rose back to her feet and stormed away. As soon as Yonten had collected himself, he ran after her again.

"I'm sorry, Miss Beifong," he chuckled, still gasping for air. "I – I didn't mean for that to happen. Really. I couldn't control it."

"Uh-huh."

"Look," he finally said, exhaling, "I am sorry if I was bothering you. But all I was trying to do was offer some help, and you could have been a little more courteous, especially since I know you are perfectly capable of being nice. There was no need for you to skedaddle me so rudely."

"That's – _not_ how you use the word," she scoffed, shaking her head. "That just sounds wrong."

"Well," he went on, unconcerned with the correct use of the word _skedaddle_. "I will say you _were _quite right in your assessment, though. I won't deny that I find you incredibly attractive, and also extremely intimidating. But, just so you are aware, I actually had no intention of following you at all. It was Iroh's idea that I tag along with you, in case you wanted some company. I was only following his suggestion. So... yes. I believe you owe me an apology, actually."

"Ha! _Excuse me?_" she scoffed again, whirling furiously on him yet a fourth time.

"Well, you're very excused! Thank you!" he replied instantly, far too pleased with himself. "See? Was that so hard?"

"Wait – what?" Toph was fuming. "Wait a second – !"

"Now, since you've apologized – "

"That _wasn't_ an apolo – !"

" – if you really want me to leave, all you have to do is politely ask, like a civilized – "

Suddenly, Toph's entire body tensed up. "Sh!" she hissed urgently. "Shut up!"

"Ah! There you go again! No, I don't think I _will _shut up. See, if you'd just show a little respect, I'd probably do what you asked without argument, but – "

Without warning, Toph abruptly raised her fists up to her face, elbows bent, and shifted her feet, slamming her left heel into the ground. The stone pavement shuddered and split, a sudden crack shooting out from her heel, and Yonten flinched, thinking she was going to hit him again. But the crack shot out, straight between his feet, past him and directly toward one of the stone columns behind him. The entire column jolted, and a woman who'd been hiding behind the column fell over with a painful grunt.

Even before Yonten managed to turn and look, Toph slammed her other foot and threw her fists forward, instantly encasing the strange woman in a cocoon of stone with expert precision.

Shoving the Airbender aside, Toph ran to the captured woman, lifting up two more large chunks of the pavement as she went and holding them both threateningly over the woman's head.

"Who are you and why were you following us?" she demanded. It was an older woman – obviously not Azula, but still. Anyone trying to hide sneakily behind columns was more than enough to get Toph's defenses up at this point.

"Aunt Sen?" Yonten gasped, running up behind Toph and gawking at the strange woman in breathless shock.

"Yonten!" she said. "I knew that was you!" She sounded happy – overjoyed, even – and not nearly frightened enough of the giant blocks of stone currently hovering over her head.

Toph frowned at him. "_Who _is this, now?"

But he ignored her, too astonished and bewildered to even remember that Toph was still there. "How did you – ? You're _here_? You're alive! But – you left?"

The woman sighed with great sorrow. "Yes, my love. I left."

"To come find me?" he cried. He was beginning to sound almost upset.

"That was... _one _of the reasons I left, yes."

Toph could feel the Airbender struggling through a very unusual melee of conflicting emotions. When he spoke again, his voice wavered between extremes of joyful relief and remorseful fury. "You shouldn't have done that! Why would you do that?!"

"Um, excuse me," Toph interrupted, indisposed to being ignored, especially when she was carrying two enormous skull-smashing boulders. "But _I _asked you a question first, lady: _who are you and why were you following us_?"

Yonten put a hand on her shoulder. "Toph, let her go!" he said. "This is my Aunt Sen. She was my guardian among the Air Nomads."

The woman seemed a bit uneasy suddenly. "And, yes, that is... _one _of the answers to that question."

Toph hesitated for a moment, still suspicious, but she did at last concede to drop the large chunks of pavement and release the woman from her stone encasement.

"Okay, then," Toph said slowly. "What's the other answer?"

The alleged "Aunt Sen," falling to the ground after being released, remained kneeling there at their feet for a few silent moments, also hesitating for a long time before speaking. At last, she spoke very quietly, but not to answer Toph's question.

"I... I need to speak to Iroh."

Both Toph and Yonten were taken aback by that.

"How do you know Uncle's name?" Toph frowned severely. "And why do you need to speak to him? Who are you?"

"Sen, what's going on?" Yonten asked in a softer, colder voice.

The woman glanced reluctantly at them – first at Yonten, then at Toph – and seemed rather ashamed of herself. But still, she insisted, "Please, I promise I'll explain everything, to both of you. I just need to speak to Iroh first."

* * *

><p>After learning all they could from the councilors, Sokka and Katara left the throne room, wandering heavily through the palace halls without any particular aim at the moment. None of the councilors had even the slightest clue about where Zuko had gone: he'd done quite a thorough job of covering his tracks. And no one knew where Azula was, either. She hadn't been caught on either General Hazu's great frigate traveling to the Earth Kingdom, or on General Ma Ten's small ship headed for Ember Island. The soldiers who'd been sent to capture her in case she showed up in Ember Island had seen no trace of her. And since Zuko's departure, there had not been any further sightings or incidents around the palace – which, of course, didn't mean that she was gone. Just that she was still loose, <em>somewhere<em>.

And Tenzin was far from the Fire Nation, and far from Katara, off with Zuko and Suki, presumably somewhere out on the endless ocean. The only two places in the world they definitely _weren't_ were the southern Earth Kingdom and Ember Island. And that hardly narrowed it down.

Katara shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing with all her might that her son was wrapped up in her arms instead. She'd been missing him violently ever since her departure from the Fire Nation two weeks ago; but she hadn't realized until now how intensely she'd been looking forward to seeing him again when they got here. Especially after her ominous dream, Aang's warning that she'd never return, and the consequent terror that she might never see Tenzin again. The disappointment of arriving here and finding him gone – knowing that she'd now have to go even longer without seeing him – and worst, that she had no idea where in the world he was, even though she knew he was at least safe with Zuko and Suki – all of it was utterly devastating, and she felt all the energy and motivation being sucked out of her.

Tired. That's it. She was just so, _so _tired. Her avoidance of sleep the past few days was certainly not helping matters, either.

The ground seemed to tilt a little beneath her feet as she walked, and she stumbled, lurching to the side. Sokka caught her by the arm and straightened her out.

"You okay?" he asked. She'd lost count of how many times he'd been asking her that these past couple of weeks.

"I need some fresh air," she whispered, already aiming for the garden. She just needed to be calm and think for a little while.

Uncle greeted them as they emerged into the garden, and Ursa stood abruptly – still clutching Momo and jostling him out of a nap with her sudden movement. She ran to Katara, who knelt and threw her arms around the little girl, glad at least to have one child to hold safely in her arms. Momo, desiring not to be crushed between them, managed to finally wrench himself free of Ursa's grasp and scampered up to perch on Sokka's shoulders.

After they explained the entire situation to Uncle, the old man sighed gravely and stroked his beard.

"I know where they have gone," he announced quietly, turning his gaze upon Katara. "Zuko has gone after you, my dear. He would want to follow you on your journey to rescue the Avatar, to be with you and bring your son back to you. And, Sokka, I'm certain your wife would be eager to follow you as well."

"We've got to get going as soon as we can," Sokka nodded. "I bet that's exactly where they've gone. And if they're on their way there right now, then we shouldn't waste any more time around here. They'll take care of themselves. It's time for us to focus on saving Aang."

Iroh rose to his feet slowly, grunting a bit with the effort. "I am coming with you," he declared suddenly.

"What?" Katara cried, gaping at him. "No! _No_, Uncle! You and Ursa need to stay here!"

"I don't feel it is safe here anymore, for either me or Ursa," he shook his head. "We assumed that this would be a secure place for me to recover, and that Zuko would be here to look after us. But he is not here; and clearly the palace is not secure at all. This is where Azula was last seen, and I feel there is a very strong possibility that she is still here, or at least nearby, most likely waiting for me and Ursa. We _were _the next on her list, if you recall, and I doubt that she has entirely abandoned her scheme. It seems likely that she would be waiting to try again, since we escaped from the tea shop."

"Uncle, _no_!" Katara insisted, shaking her head frantically and sounding almost angry. "You're still not well, and a long trip to the North Pole is too dangerous for both you and Ursa – "

"I'm far from the brink of death now, Katara, and you know it," he argued. "And considering the situation, at this point going to the North Pole would be much safer than staying here. Also, to be honest, the biggest reason I wanted to come to the Fire Nation in the first place was because I've been quite worried for my nephew for some time now. I was hoping that he would be here, but of course, it turns out he is gone. There's no reason for me to stay here. And, all in all, I'd feel much more comfortable if I had both Ursa _and _Zuko in my sight."

"No!" Katara exploded, all at once inexplicably furious. "I don't _want _you to come! You both have to stay here!"

"Katara?" Sokka frowned at her. "What's going on? Why are you getting so worked up about this?"

"Because! _Because_!" She clenched her fists viciously, stumbling over her anger, struggling to hold back a frustrated deluge and failing completely. "Because if they don't stay here, then this entire trip was just a complete waste of time, Sokka! Understand? I put off saving Aang because I thought we had to bring them back here, and if they just end up coming along with us after all this, then the whole thing was just pointless and we could have already been at the North Pole by now, and I can't – I can't stand that! I can't even think about it! I can't stand thinking that I put Aang at even more risk for a trip that we didn't even need to take!"

Sokka sighed wearily, and massaged his brow. "Katara," he began slowly, "I understand why you're upset. But you're not being rational about this – "

"You don't understand – !"

"_Yes_, I do!" he argued. "Look, I know it's frustrating, but Uncle's right. You're just exhausted and stressed out right now and you're not thinking clearly. Listen: we came here because we thought it was safe, but it's obviously not. We can't just abandon Uncle and Ursa, knowing that Azula was _just _here, and possibly still _is_ here, and definitely is still after them! If Zuko and Suki were at least here to watch over them, then we could leave them. But Zuko and Suki are gone. It doesn't make sense to leave Uncle and Ursa here alone."

Katara glowered at him, biting her lip, and she turned and swiped her arm at the pond in a surge of overwhelming frustration, stirring up a sudden wave and accidentally splashing the turtle ducks, who squawked at her in annoyance.

"Ugh!" she growled, grinding her teeth. "We shouldn't have come here! We should have just gone straight to the North Pole! If we'd just _known_ – I can't believe how stupid I was – "

"Hey, you weren't stupid!" Sokka protested. "You just did what you thought was best at the time. But it's not best anymore. The situation's changed. None of us could have known, so there's no point in getting upset about it. What's done is done. All we can do now is get to the North Pole as fast as we can. We still have two weeks, Katara. We can make it. It's not over yet."

"I know, I know," she sighed, beginning to calm down a bit, but hiding her face in her hands in anguish and disgrace. "I just... I can't believe that we came all this way for nothing."

"_Ursa_?" Uncle gasped suddenly, staring off toward the other end of the garden with wide, astonished eyes.

"What?" Ursa asked.

"No, no!" He shook his head, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "Not _you_, Ursa. I meant – _URSA_!"

He pointed a trembling finger, his face going pale as if he'd seen some kind of specter. They all looked in the direction he was pointing, and saw Toph and Yonten coming toward them, with a third figure between them: a tall woman, with long dark hair streaked with gray, and unusual flowing yellow and brown robes.

Katara's jaw dropped. She knew that woman. She'd seen her face a million times, in dozens of pictures, all from years ago – back when the woman had worn Fire Nation robes instead, and had carried less age in the creases of her face, less gray in her hair, and less sorrow in her eyes. But this was her. It was unmistakable.

Zuko's mother, the former Princess Ursa, who had not been seen in sixteen years.

Not a ghost. Not a vision. Alive – there in the flesh.

Forgetting all his injuries, Iroh abruptly took off running at top speed, racing straight for the three of them, blundering right past Toph and Yonten and throwing his arms around the elder Ursa with all his strength. She gasped for air in his crushing embrace, eyes wide with surprise, and then they both laughed, while everyone else gaped at the scene in perplexed paralysis.

"Ursa!" he cried again, practically lifting her off the ground in his tight hug. "How – ? What – ? You – ! _Ursa_!"

"Iroh, I'm – _oof!_ – I'm glad to see you!" she gasped breathlessly.

"I can't believe it's you! You're alive! And you're – ! It's you! Ursa! _Where have you been_?!"

"Could you – could you let go, please, Iroh?" she squeaked. "You're squeezing the life out of me!"

He released her immediately, still laughing, and patted her so hard on the shoulder that she nearly toppled over. But she straightened up, and smiled brightly at him, staring him in the face and shaking her head.

"I can't believe how long it's been!" she sighed.

"I can't believe you're _here_!" he exclaimed.

"I must say, I'm… I'm relieved that you're so happy to see me, Iroh," she admitted. "I was afraid maybe – "

"Of course I am!" He waved his hand, still laughing. "How did you get here? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"Um," Toph spoke up, breaking the spell of astonishment and confusion that had been holding everyone else captive throughout this happy reunion. "Uncle? Explain, please?"

"Aunt Sen?" Yonten said quietly, almost simultaneously with Toph, as he frowned at the woman in bewilderment (and, unquestionably, a small sense of growing unease). "Your real name is Ursa? The same as the Fire Lord's daughter? How do you know Iroh? What's going on?"

While all these questions were asked, Katara, speechlessly, almost as if she were in a trance, stepped slowly across the garden towards them, with her eyes fixed steadily on the long lost princess. She held out a rather shaky hand as she approached, still staring directly, amazedly, into the face that she'd thus far seen only in portraits.

"Princess Ursa," she whispered, bowing her head slightly. "I've heard so much about you! I'm, uh… My name is Katara."

"Pleased to meet you," said the elder Ursa, shaking Katara's hand and returning her slight bow. But Yonten backed away from them a few steps, gaping at the former princess as if she'd stabbed him in the back.

"You?" he exclaimed, in cold, soft-spoken anger. "You were a princess of the Fire Nation? How could you never tell me this?!"

She glanced at him, abashed, and opened her mouth to reply, but Sokka interrupted her.

"So," he said, carefully approaching the group and scrutinizing her in wide-eyed curiosity, "you're Zuko's mom? The one who's been missing for sixteen years?!"

She sighed heavily. "Yes, that's me."

Toph unleashed a small spurt of surprised, flabbergasted curses, while Sokka, half-amazed and half-thunderstruck, clumsily stammered, "Wow! _Wow_! Well, uh… welcome back! I'm Sokka, by the way."

"Thank you, Sokka," she said, also shaking his hand.

Yonten took another step back, stunned and distressed. "You're Fire Lord Zuko's _mother_?!"

"Yonten," she gazed at him beseechingly, "please don't be upset – !"

He turned away from her, confusion and betrayal battling in his expression. But everyone else was far too distracted by the woman herself to worry about him at the moment.

"I can't believe it's you!" Uncle declared again, shaking his head in amazement as he stared at her.

"Zuko's been trying to find you for years!" Katara said. "We all thought you must have died!"

"So, are all of you friends of Zuko, then?" she asked, glancing around at all of them curiously.

"Heh, well, we weren't always," Sokka chuckled. "But now we are, yes. Long, complicated story."

"So," Toph interjected, waving her hands. "So – wait. You're Zuko's missing mom, _and _you're Pipsqueak's Aunt Sen, too? So that means…"

"You have been living with the Air Nomads!" Uncle finished her sentence, staring at the elder Ursa in awe. "All this time! _On a Lion Turtle_!"

Ursa looked a little startled. "Uh – well – yes, actually. I suppose Yonten must have told you about that – "

Uncle guffawed with delight. "Well, no wonder no one could find you!"

"But how did _you _find _them_?" Katara asked.

She sighed. "It's a... it's also a long and complicated story."

"Oh! Hey! Urs – ! I mean, uh... _Little _Ursa!" Sokka suddenly shouted, glancing over his shoulder at the little girl, who'd been hanging back by the pond in shyness and uncertainty. "Come over here!"

She came, taking tentative steps, staring cautiously up at the older woman all the while. Uncle gestured encouragingly toward the girl, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he brought her forward to be introduced.

"Ursa," he chuckled, clearly excited to finally be able to say this, "meet Ursa! And Ursa, this is Ursa!"

"Okay, I can already see this getting _real _confusing," Toph remarked.

"Hm, I think this might call for nicknames!" Sokka declared eagerly. "Little Ursa, Big Ursa? Ooh! Ooh! I know! Ursa Minor, and Ursa Major! Nah, that's stupid..."

Ignoring Sokka, Katara knelt down by the bewildered Little Ursa and looked her in the eye. "Ursa, this is your grandmother," she explained softly. "Your dad's mom. She's been missing for a long, long time. You were named after her."

As the younger Ursa stared up at her namesake, still nervously holding her tongue, the elder Ursa knelt down to her level as well and gazed at her, smiling tremulously, drinking in the sight of her small granddaughter and blinking away some irrepressible tears. For a moment, neither of the Ursas spoke: the younger was too intimidated; the elder, too overwhelmed by the wonder of finally meeting her son's young daughter.

"Ursa," the elder one whispered at last, reaching out her hand to the little girl. "I'm – I'm so glad to be able to meet you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for being gone so long."

"Mmph," the younger Ursa mumbled uneasily, half-heartedly shaking her grandmother's hand.

"Your father must be very proud of you," the elder Ursa smiled, her voice quivering slightly. "You're a very beautiful girl. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Um-hm... thanks," the younger Ursa muttered, and she quickly pulled away to hide behind Uncle's leg, shyly peeking one eye out to keep her strange grandmother carefully within her sight.

"All right," Toph said. "Well, just to finish up the introductions – " She held out her hand to the woman. "Hi. I'm Toph Beifong, Greatest Earthbender in the World, and I mean that very literally. Sorry for knocking you over and threatening to smash your head."

"Why do all your introductions include apologies, Toph?" Sokka asked, snickering.

But Toph just ignored him, still speaking to the elder Ursa. "It's an honor to meet you, and welcome back to real life. So, does that cover everyone? You already know Pipsqueak, obviously. Katara and Sokka – they're brother and sister from the Southern Water Tribe. Uncle, Little Ursa... Oh, and that furry thing is Momo. He doesn't do much."

Momo, who'd been sitting on Sokka's shoulders all the while, suddenly sat up rather indignantly at that remark, and let out a loud screech.

"Okay, then," Toph went on. "Now that we all know each other, I've got a few questions for you, lady. First of all, if you've been hanging out with the Airbenders for – how long? Sixteen years, approximately? – then what made you suddenly decide to come back, and why did it take you so long? Also, how did you end up living with the Air Nomads to begin with? And, most importantly, why did I find you sneakily hiding behind a column and spying on us?"

The elder Ursa released a heavy sigh.

"Right," she murmured. "That's a lot to explain. Well, the short answer to your last question is, I was hiding because I was... Honestly, I was a little afraid about what sort of reception I was going to get. It's been rather terrifying for me, to show my face around here, after having been gone for so long, and after... certain... um, _events_ that happened when I left sixteen years ago – "

"Ah!" Uncle cut her off suddenly, grinning and rubbing his hands together almost greedily. "Oh, I'm _so _glad you're here again, Ursa! You have no idea how much it's been _killing _me all these years, not knowing what happened! You've got to tell me everything!"

Ursa sighed again, wincing sheepishly. "There's a lot to tell."

"Well," Katara suggested. "If it's a long story, maybe we should all go sit down by the pond and you can tell us."

"Yeah," Sokka nodded. "Our bison's taking a nap at the moment, so we've got some time to spare."

"All right," Ursa sighed reluctantly. "I'll do my best. And maybe, if there's time, you could all tell me your stories as well. I'm dying to know what Zuko's been up to all these years."

* * *

><p><em>Yay, Zuko's mom! WHAT A TWIST!<em>

_Haha, nah, I bet you guys saw that coming a mile away. (Actually, I thought I made it fairly obvious back in Ch. 16, but no one really said anything about it, so maybe it wasn't as obvious as I thought? Meh. *shrug*) Either way, though, I guess their trip to the Fire Nation wasn't useless after all! _:D

_So, hey! If any of you are very astute readers + Miyazaki fans, you might have guessed that "Sen" was a fake name all along, Because I stole it. From _Spirited Away_. It was the name Yubaba gave Chihiro after she gave her the job in the bath house and basically took her identity hostage. Yep! That was on purpose. Just thought I'd throw that out there, in case anyone cared._

_Also, by the way, I honestly have no idea where this little nonsense between Toph & Yonten came from. Seriously, I was not planning it AT ALL when I introduced his character. Heh, funny things happen. I'm pretty amused by it, but I doubt anything actually serious will come of it, since I feel a little (__**a lot**__) weird paring Toph up with an OC. I think I'm just amused because their personalities are so opposite (I can sort of buy the "opposites attract" theory, but not the "opposites make perfect soul mates" version of it). Also, I guess, I'm amused because I can see young Tenzin & Lin's relationship being sort of like this… Heh. Heh heh._

_So… anyway. Reviews are greatly appreciated! And I apologize if any of these chapters feel a little rushed (I _have_ been rushing, I'll admit; but I'm trying to slow myself down, thus the whole breaking this chapter into two parts thing). My life is pretty busy at the moment, and I'm also very anxious to get to the North Pole bits! And I still miss Aang._

Rain&Roses: "Hey Aang, can I have some of your custard tart?" :)  
>Aang: "Only if I get to appear in the next chapter!" :D<br>Rain&Roses: "Um… well, the next chapter's about Zuko's mom. Plus, you're still trapped in the Spirit World without a face, so… I can't really _do _that. Sorry." :/  
>Aang: "Well, then, too bad! MY CUSTARD TART! <em>Om nom nom…<em>!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw, phooey." :(<p> 


	25. The Tale of Ursa

_First off, I just have to say, I'm really, REALLY glad I decided to split these two chapters up. Because this went from being just a short section at the end of the last chapter, to suddenly the freakin longest chapter ever! See, I was originally just gonna have Ursa briefly explain her story. But once I split up the chapters, it suddenly evolved into an episode of "Lost" - flashbacks, flashbacks, flashbacks! And I like it much better this way. MUCH better. As in... I am inordinately pleased with this, and I can't imagine why I didn't decide to do it like this in the first place._

_Okay then – brace yourselves – because what follows is my attempt to answer the age-old question: "Whatever happened to Zuko's mom?"_

_If Mike & Bryan ever feel the urge to stop trolling the fans and actually answer this question themselves, I'm sure it will be nothing even remotely close to what I've come up with here. But I don't care. I like my version._

Aang: "Oh, get on with it already! Your Author's Notes are too long."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "All right, all right! Don't be so bossy, Twinkle Toes!"<br>Aang: "Hey, don't call me 'Twinkle Toes.' That's Toph's thing."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh, yeah, you're right. My bad. Anyway…"<p>

* * *

><p><strong>THE TALE OF URSA<strong>

_Everyone gathered around beside the turtle ducks' pond, and the elder Ursa seated herself beneath a mossy tree that grew on the bank. A thousand memories, happy in and of themselves, but tragic in the broader context of her life, began drifting back through her mind. She could still recall sitting here, feeding the turtle ducks with Zuko, brushing little Azula's once beautiful hair, rocking her babies to sleep and singing them lullabies that she'd learned from her mother when she was only a child herself._

_It had been so long. Such a long, long time._

_Once again, Iroh urged her to tell the story. And so, Ursa began. She began with the night that had changed everything._

* * *

><p><em>SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER…<em>

Princess Ursa, wife of Prince Ozai of the Fire Nation, wandered the halls of the palace in soft, brooding fury.

How had things come to this? How had her life brought her here? Where had everything gone wrong?

Where was the man she'd married? Ozai – he had once been so disarming, so stable, so affectionate. Even compassionate at times, though she could hardly remember now how she'd ever seen that in him. Where had he gone? His charm had turned to cunning; his strength, to disdain and consuming ambition. His affections had all grown cold.

Had he always been this way, and somehow she simply hadn't seen it before? Or, perhaps now, left to his own devices, without the influence of his older brother Iroh – with only the ever-increasing influence of his heartless father Azulon – perhaps now he'd simply lost sight of who he was.

She was losing sight of who he was, as well. Though she yearned, with all her heart, to hold on to him; surely the man she'd fallen in love with was still there, somewhere inside.

Leaning against the wall for a moment, just breathing, Ursa fought with herself. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep ignoring the monster her husband was transforming into before her very eyes. She couldn't keep clinging to a man who didn't exist anymore. She'd tried and tried, struggling to ignore what was so painfully obvious. But after this afternoon…

They'd gone for an audience before Fire Lord Azulon earlier that day: she, Ozai, and young Zuko and Azula. It was only a few days ago that the news of Prince Lu Ten's death, and Iroh's abandonment of the Siege of Ba Sing Se, had arrived. Ursa was still grieving for her nephew Lu Ten – so young and full of promise, his life cut prematurely short. And she worried for Iroh, who seemed utterly broken by his son's death. No one knew if he was even going to return home or not. Ursa feared he would never recover, and prayed he wouldn't do anything reckless in his grief.

But she felt like she was the only one in this entire family who cared about it at all, except for Zuko, though he was still too young to understand the full significance of the tragedy. Little Azula, on the other hand, was disturbingly heartless, simply mocking Iroh for his weakness. And Ozai… he had only spoken of his brother's loss as if it were a fortunate opportunity for himself, for their family.

His coldness made her sick.

And this afternoon, after Azula had demonstrated her advanced Firebending skills to the Fire Lord, little Zuko had insisted on performing as well. Her poor son. He was so strong, so determined; but he still lacked the skills to match his drive. All he'd succeeded in doing was embarrassing himself. Watching him try so hard, and fail – it pierced her heart to the core. But what was worse, _much _worse, was seeing the disapproval, the icy disdain and disappointment, in Ozai's eyes as he watched his son's attempts to impress him. His hard frown, his contempt – that was what had filled Ursa with rage.

That was when she'd truly, fully realized – she didn't know her own husband anymore.

How could Ozai be so hard-hearted towards his own son? Did he have no compassion at all? Was he simply afraid to show any mercy in the presence of Azulon, afraid that it would be perceived as weakness? Or was that truly who he was now?

Ozai had certainly never been as rash as Zuko. He always knew when to hold back, when to show restraint. Zuko didn't. But he was still so young. He would learn as he grew. And Ursa loved that quality about Zuko, anyway: he blundered into things, earnest and dogged. Yes, he was foolish. But he always learned.

With a sigh, Ursa continued on her stroll down the corridor, on her way to Zuko's bedroom to give him some reassurance and tell him how proud she was of him. If his father wouldn't show him any support, then at least _she _would.

As she neared the open doorway of Zuko's bedroom, she heard the sound of her daughter's voice coming from inside, reverberating derisively down the hall. Teasing Zuko, _again_. Ursa sighed in frustration and walked a little faster toward the room, planning to put a stop to Azula's bullying once and for all.

"… _know the pain of losing a firstborn son, by sacrificing your own!_" The little girl was putting on a deeper, more dramatic tone, probably imitating someone.

"_Liar!_" came Zuko's furious retort, resounding down the hall.

Ursa couldn't help but pause for a moment, heart pounding for a reason she didn't know. What was Azula talking about? What kind of horrible nonsense was she tormenting her brother with?

"_I'm only telling you for your own good," _Azula went on._ "I know! Maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you!"_

"_Stop it!" _Zuko cried desperately. "_You're lying! Dad would never do that to me!_"

"Your father would never do _what _to you?" Ursa asked sternly, surprising both of them as she strode into the bedroom.

Zuko was tucked under the covers of his bed, clutching the blankets in fear, while Azula sat on the edge of the bed, leaning toward him with a taunting smirk on her face. The smirk quickly vanished when she saw her mother, and Zuko looked instantly relieved.

"What is going on here?" Ursa demanded, giving Azula a fierce stare.

After a hesitant pause, Azula replied in a meek, innocent voice, "I dunno." Her eyes grew wide in dread as her mother marched across the room, taking her firmly by the arm.

"It's time for a talk," Ursa declared severely, pulling her little daughter off of Zuko's bed and out of his room, leaving him to enjoy his privacy in peace.

"Mom! I didn't _do _anything!" Azula protested, trotting rapidly as Ursa dragged her down the hall. "Why do you always punish _me_? Why doesn't Zuko ever get in trouble for things?"

"Because Zuko doesn't go around telling lies and causing mischief," Ursa replied, giving her daughter another stern look. Once they'd gone a good distance down the hall, Ursa pulled Azula around and knelt, looking her gravely in the eye. "Now, what were you two talking about?"

"I dunno," Azula said again, her eyes drifting away, refusing to meet her mother's stare.

"Look at me, young lady," Ursa commanded, turning her face back towards her. "What were you telling your brother? Were you lying and trying to scare him?"

"I wasn't lying," she said, frowning indignantly. "Everything I told him was true. I heard it all myself."

"What did you hear, Azula?" Ursa insisted. "What did you tell Zuko?"

"I told him – I told him that dad's gonna kill him!" she announced suddenly, fixing her mother with an unsettlingly brazen stare.

Ursa was too shocked to reply for a moment, gazing at her daughter in horror. "What?" she finally gasped. "Why would you tell him that?"

"Because it's true! I heard the whole thing earlier this afternoon!"

"What are you talking about, Azula?"

"Dad asked grandfather if he could be Fire Lord, since Uncle is a coward and failure. And grandfather got mad, and told dad that he had to kill Zuko, so that he would understand the pain of losing a firstborn son the way Uncle did. That's what he said. And dad said he was going to do it."

The girl sneered coldly as she finished, which sent a chill tingling down her mother's spine.

Ursa gaped at her for a moment, thinking that surely she was just making up some terrible, twisted lie. But then – but then – something deep within her told her that Azula _wasn't _lying. She was telling the truth this time; clearly taking far too much sadistic pleasure in it, but telling the truth all the same.

Giving Azula a severe glower, Ursa rose to her feet. "Leave Zuko alone, Azula. And don't speak about this to _anyone_. Not even Mai or Ty Lee. Understand?"

"What are you gonna do?" Azula asked, smirking at her, almost daring her to prove that she wasn't powerless. "Are you gonna kill dad? Are you gonna kill grandfather?"

"Hush," Ursa scolded her fiercely. "I'm not going to kill anyone, Azula. You shouldn't even speak of such things. And no one is going to kill your brother, either. Now, run along, and stay out of trouble. Please."

* * *

><p>"<em>Ozai!<em>"

He barely looked up as she stormed into the bath chamber, too engrossed in a soothing massage to pay her much heed. While the servant girl stepped across his back, his bones cracked, and he grunted with relaxed pleasure. Ursa came and stood before him, with a wild gleam of rage in her eyes.

"Hello, my dear," Ozai murmured indifferently.

"We need to talk."

"Can't it wait till later?" he grumbled. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Impatiently, Ursa gestured for the servant girl to cut her massage short and leave. Once the room was deserted, Ozai sat up, scowling at her irritably. But she kept her furious gaze fixed steadily on him, as if trying to incinerate him with only the intensity of her eyes.

"Fine," he sighed. "What's on your mind?"

"I know what you're planning to do, Ozai," she announced darkly. "I know what Azulon ordered you to do, and I won't let you. You will _not _harm a hair on my son's head, do you hear me? I won't let you. I swear, I will protect him from you, no matter the cost."

Ozai simply stared at her for a moment, deep in grim contemplation. At last, he sighed and stood up, stretching and turning away from her.

"How did you find out?" he asked quietly.

"That doesn't matter," she replied quickly. "All that matters is that I know, and I'm not letting you get away with this. I'll do whatever it takes to stop you. _Whatever _it takes. Understand?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her, sizing her up, calculating – she knew his mind was whirring busily with estimations, manipulations, strategies for getting around her, thwarting her, changing her mind. But she wouldn't let him. Not this time.

"Ursa," he sighed at last, turning fully around to face her and giving her an earnest, pleading stare – his amber eyes burning straight into her heart, trying to use her emotions against her. "Please try to understand – "

"I completely understand, Ozai," she interrupted him, returning his gaze with a look of pure, cold stone. "You were foolish enough to try grabbing the throne while your brother is at his weakest, and now you're being punished for it. But it's _your _punishment to take. I won't stand by while my son pays for your miscalculation."

He glowered at her viciously, seeing that he wasn't going to manipulate her with an emotional appeal.

"My father made it quite clear, Ursa," he said softly, callously. "Either I take the boy's life, or face banishment. I can't say I'm exactly _pleased_ about it. But I won't try to claim that the decision was difficult to make, either."

"Not difficult to make!" she exclaimed incredulously. "How can you even _think_ of doing this? Killing your own son?"

"Sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good," he replied, turning away from her again and casually picking up his formal robe from where he'd lain it on a nearby chair.

"Greater good," she scoffed. "What greater good? The greater good of _you_?"

"The greater good of the country!" he retorted fiercely, not looking at her while he slipped on his robe. "This is what must happen, Ursa. That's just the way it is. We'll still have Azula, after all. And she will make a much better Fire Lord after me, anyway."

Ursa couldn't reply for several moments, she was so overcome with rage and horror. She could only stand there, clenching her teeth, clenching her fists, trembling head to toe with consuming hatred. Never before had she wished so much to be a Firebender – she would have burned the flesh right off him, then and there.

"You're a monster," she said at last, in a soft, disgusted whisper.

Ozai didn't respond to that, and he continued not to look at her. For a long while, they both stood there in the bath chamber, engulfed in deep, bitter silence. Ursa studied him for several minutes, her mind spinning – she saw her entire life crumbling before her eyes, all represented by the image of this man. This man she'd loved, this man who had once made her happy, this man who was now a stranger and an enemy. She knew what needed to be done, and she knew what the consequences would be. Here was the crossroads, here in this moment of silence; here was the end of everything she'd ever known. The man before her was no longer her husband. And she was no longer the soft-spoken princess, the tranquil wife, the happy mother. Both of them, in that single defining moment, transformed into different people, took on new identities – at last fully realizing the roles that their destinies had been pushing them toward for years. He, the monster. She, the traitor.

"I can get you the throne," she whispered.

Ozai turned, finally looking at her, startled and curious and almost frightened. "What?"

"You want your father's throne?" she said. "I'll get it for you."

He raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "How?"

"I'll tell you how." She stepped closer to him, eyes smoldering. "But first, you must swear to me that Zuko will not be harmed in any way."

He hesitated, then shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant – even smiling at her slightly. But she could tell that he was nervous, even terrified; though the greed in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Well," he muttered. "I see no reason why Zuko would have to die, if you really mean what you say."

"I mean every word, Ozai."

He smiled a bit more, every inch of him dripping with hungry ambition, and leaned in close to her, speaking in a hush. "You get me the throne, and I'll spare Zuko's life."

"_Swear_ _it_," she demanded, quiet and vicious.

"I swear that Zuko will live," he nodded. "Now – what is your proposal, my dear?"

* * *

><p>Fire Lord Azulon awoke in his bed at midnight, with the blade of a sword pressed against his throat.<p>

"Don't move," Ursa commanded him softly, tightening her grip around the hilt.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, bewildered. Then he frowned placidly. "Princess Ursa, really," he muttered, scowling with vague disappointment. "I've been expecting something like this from Ozai. But you? I must admit, I didn't see it coming at all."

"You only have yourself to blame, Azulon," she whispered. "Did you forget that Prince Zuko has more than one parent?"

"How did you get past my guards?" he asked. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized there was another figure in the room standing behind her, entirely obscured by a heavy cloak, and holding a bucket of water.

"Your guards are dead," she replied bluntly. "That's how."

The old Fire Lord fixed her with a venomous stare, but she pressed the blade into his throat a little deeper, drawing forth a trickle of blood.

"I wouldn't try calling for help either," she said. "And no Firebending. My servant here is ready to douse your flames should you try anything. And I promise you'll be dead before you even realize that you're wet."

For a moment, he glanced between the two of them, calculating – she recognized the same calculating look in his eyes that she'd seen so often in Ozai's – but the old man soon realized there was no escape. So he sighed.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to write a decree," she said, and the cloaked servant brought forth parchment and a quill, holding it out to the Fire Lord in silence.

Ursa allowed Azulon to sit up and take the writing instruments, though she kept her sword point firmly fixed against his neck. The cloaked servant, still holding the bucket of water ready, then quietly walked to the table beside the bed and turned on the lamp, just bright enough to write by. The dim candlelight flickered on the faces of the Fire Lord and the princess, smoldering in their eyes as they stared each other down, while the cloaked servant still remained hidden in shadows.

"And, pray tell," Azulon murmured finally, sneering a bit at Ursa, "what is this decree that I'm writing?"

"You will declare that your firstborn son, Iroh, because of his failure at Ba Sing Se and because he has no suitable heir to succeed him, is hereby revoked of his birthright. He will no longer inherit the throne or the duties of the Fire Lord. Instead, it is your wish that, upon the event of your death, these privileges will pass to your second son Ozai, and he will ascend to the throne after you."

Azulon scrutinized her furiously for a few moments, and then began to chuckle bitterly.

"Poor girl," he muttered. "Don't tell me Ozai has manipulated you into doing the dirty work he's too cowardly to do himself?"

"Write the decree, Fire Lord Azulon," she commanded, ignoring his scorn.

After glaring at her for another few seconds, he took the parchment and wrote the decree, all the while with the point of Ursa's sword burying itself in the fleshy wrinkles of his throat. When it had been written and signed, the cloaked servant took it, glanced over it, and nodded at Ursa. Then the servant put it back on the bedside table, producing forth from his cloak a small container of wax - which he heated in the dimly glowing heat of his hand for a few seconds - and the Fire Lord's official seal.

Azulon sealed the decree, thus making it truly official, and sat back in his bed. Then he gave Ursa a disdainful sneer.

"This is the most foolish thing you've ever done, Princess Ursa," he stated softly.

"I suppose it is," she replied quietly. "So far, at least."

Then, without warning, she drove the blade deep into his throat. His eyes went wide with surprise, and blood spurted from his neck, drenching the bedsheets. Moments later, Fire Lord Azulon was dead, and Ursa – shuddering with horror and struggling not to vomit – found that now that it was done, she didn't have the strength to pull the blade back out again. So she simply let it go, trembling uncontrollably, and left it dangling out of the ex-Fire Lord's neck.

The cloaked servant set down the bucket of water and threw his hood back. Ozai's face emerged into the dim candlelight, grimacing.

"I have to admit," he whispered. "I didn't think you would actually do it."

"Well, it's done," she wheezed hoarsely, turning away – unable to bear the sight of the murdered Fire Lord for one second longer.

Ozai took the scroll, with the royal seal – the precious key to his ascension – and rolled it up carefully, slipping it into his cloak. Then he took back the quill, the wax and the seal, and turned the lamp off once more.

Reeling against the post of Azulon's bed, Ursa fought for several moments just to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Ozai came and stood beside her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. His face was illuminated now only by the gray moonlight that fell through the window, and he gave her a smile of genuine gratitude and admiration.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered.

Suddenly he leaned in and kissed her passionately. Then he pulled away and gave her a grave look.

"I'll give you an hour's head-start before I alert the guards," he said straightforwardly. "Use it wisely."

Still breathing heavily, Ursa pierced him with a stare of pure, unadulterated hatred. Then she turned away and stumbled out of the room, without looking back.

* * *

><p>Pulling her heavy cloak tightly around her, heart thudding, Ursa ran directly to Zuko's bedroom.<p>

The boy was curled up beneath the thick blankets, his small fingers grasping at the folds. He frowned in his sleep, brows furrowed, as if he were troubled – as if he somehow knew.

For a moment, all she could do was look at him, drinking in the sight of him with every ounce of her strength, knowing this would almost certainly be the last time she ever saw him. Burning tears brimmed in her eyes, but she held them back – there would be time to grieve later. All that mattered now was that he was safe. Her precious boy. Her strong, foolish, brave, gentle-hearted Zuko.

He would have to live without her now. Now all he would have would be his father; his cruel, cold-hearted father. Ozai wouldn't protect him. Ozai wouldn't love him the way he needed to be loved. But at least he was safe; he would live, and he would grow. He would grow up without her, becoming a man, getting married, having children that she would never meet. He'd live his life without her, never knowing what had become of her – forever believing that she'd abandoned him. One day he would learn of the horrific deeds she'd done this night, and he would loathe her for it. He would know she was a murderer and a traitor, and he would hate her for that, and for leaving him all alone.

But tonight, this one last night, he was still hers. One day he wouldn't love her anymore, but now he still did. She could leave knowing that at least he loved her tonight.

She knew she had to somehow leave him with the knowledge that she, at least, loved him – this night, and for the rest of her life, no matter what else happened, no matter whether he stopped loving her tomorrow or ten years from now. She would always love him, and perhaps that would be enough. Perhaps that would be enough to support him in future years, when Ozai wouldn't. Perhaps that would be enough to keep him from becoming Ozai himself.

Ursa gently placed her hand on his shoulder, stirring him softly. His eyes inched open heavily.

"Mom?" he mumbled.

"Zuko," she whispered, helping him sit up in the bed. "Please, my love, listen to me…"

He swayed groggily, and squinted at her through eyelids burdened with sleep.

"Everything I've done," she said carefully, trying to fill every word to the brim with love, "I've done to protect you." Arms quivering slightly, she pulled him into a fierce hug, squeezing him against her chest with all her might.

Footsteps suddenly echoed outside the door, and her heart leaped with dread. She couldn't linger any more.

Holding the bleary-eyed boy out at arm's length, she fixed him with an earnest gaze.

"Remember this, Zuko," she said urgently, "no matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."

Then, she let him go. He drifted back against the pillows, blinking at her in a foggy daze, frowning in confusion. She rose and walked slowly to the door, risking one last glance over her shoulder at him. At last, mustering the best smile she could for him, she lifted the hood of her cloak, turned away, and left him behind forever.

* * *

><p><em>Ursa paused in her tale, biting her lip for a moment, still vividly recalling the crushing emotions of that night. Fingers trembling, she wiped away a small tear, and then gazed up at her rapt audience. Hesitantly, she turned her eyes toward Iroh.<em>

"_I'm – " she stumbled. "I'm so sorry for what I did, Iroh."_

_He released a heavy sigh, but then gave her a small smile – it was sorrowful, but also reassuring, and not at all bitter. "I forgive you, Ursa," he said at last, quietly. "My father was a cruel man. And, to be honest, not becoming the Fire Lord was probably the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. So, really, I ought to thank you."_

"_Please, don't," she said, shaking her head fiercely. "I don't want to be thanked for something so shameful."_

_There was a long silence, filled only with the sound of the turtle ducks squawking quietly to one another. At last, Ursa took a deep breath, and continued:_

"_I fled the palace and the city, with no idea where I was going. It didn't matter where I went – I only knew that I needed to get as far away from there as I possibly could. So, for a long time, I just kept going, running and running, always thinking that someone was after me, and I was going to be captured any day and brought back to pay for my treason._

"_Finally, I made my way to the Earth Kingdom. For over a year, I wandered throughout the country, moving from town to town. Nowhere was safe for long – everywhere I went, it seemed like there were constantly Fire Nation soldiers marching through, conquering everything, abusing their power over the people. I was in perpetual fear of being recognized and dragged back to the Fire Nation in chains. But over time, I started to become concerned about more than just myself. Living for so long in the Earth Kingdom finally made me realize all the destruction and oppression that my own country had brought upon the world. I couldn't believe it – it was like a shadow over everything. I'd never been outside of the Fire Nation in my entire life until then. I'd barely even been outside the capital city. And as a child I'd always been taught that our nation was the greatest in the world, and that we were spreading prosperity and progress to the other nations._

"_But once I was no longer part of the Fire Nation, it didn't take me very long to see what a brilliant, horrible lie that was…_"

* * *

><p>In a small mining town, hidden away somewhere in the western Earth Kingdom, Ursa wandered the dusty streets, clutching at her growling stomach. She hadn't eaten in almost two days, and her head throbbed and spun with hunger. But fortunately, she spotted a small shop just at the end of the street. Perhaps they would be kind enough to offer her food, in exchange for work.<p>

It had been nearly seven months now since she'd fled from the Fire Nation, and she still hadn't got used to living like this: scrounging up food wherever possible, begging for jobs anywhere she could find them, sleeping in the strangest of places – sometimes simply behind a building, or in the street, if she didn't have any other options.

At first she'd resented it, like an angry child: resented whatever force was in control of the universe, for driving her out of her home and forcing her to live like this.

But now, over the course of the past month or two, her anger had burnt itself out. Now, all she felt was pity – some pity for herself, admittedly, but also for everyone else that she saw in the same plight as she was, just barely scraping by. She wasn't sure if she pitied them more or less because they'd never known what it was like to live in an opulent palace, in the most powerful country in the world, with all the luxuries one could ask for.

It all made her feel ignorant, more than anything else. She never knew how sheltered she'd been her whole life.

Stumbling into the small shop, she was greeted by a woman who was in the process of restocking some crates of spices by the back wall.

"Hello, there," the woman said, glancing over her shoulder at Ursa. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to give me a job?"

"Oh," the woman frowned, setting down her spices and leaning against the counter thoughtfully, while scrutinizing Ursa's dark cloak and dusty, haggard appearance. "Well, actually, ah… I don't really need any extra help. And I'm not sure I can afford – "

"All I ask for payment is food," Ursa said hastily. "Whatever you can spare, please. I'll do any job you ask me to."

The woman's eyes softened with pity, sensing Ursa's desperation. With a heavy sigh, she got up, walked behind the counter, and pulled out a small bag.

"Here," she said quietly. "Fill up this bag with food. Anything you want. It's no charge."

Ursa just blinked at her for a moment in astonishment. "Oh," she stammered. "No – no, I couldn't – "

"No," the woman shook her head. "Please, I insist. You look like you've hit some hard times, and I'm more than happy to help out someone in need. Please."

Ursa hesitated, almost choking up with gratitude, and finally took the bag from the woman's hand, bowing her head slightly and smiling tearfully. "Um, thank you," she murmured, blushing with shame. "Thank you so much. I don't even know how to – "

But the woman waved her hand dismissively, cutting her off. "It's fine, dear. Really. Go on."

So Ursa, unable to resist any longer, no matter how ashamed she was, quickly began wandering about the shop, choosing a variety of fruits and vegetables, bread, cheeses, and herbs. Her stomach fought an intense battle with her mind, urging her to shove everything in sight into that little bag; but her mind won out, and she carefully made sure to pick and choose only the scraps, the bruised fruits and the smallest loaves of bread.

As she browsed, a boy walked in, carrying a bag of flour over his shoulder. Ursa couldn't help but gawk at him for a moment, though she quickly caught herself. He looked to be about Zuko's age, maybe a little younger. Surreptitiously, she watched him carry the flour to the back of the shop, grunting with the effort as he flung it on top of a few other bags of flour.

"That's the last one, mom," the boy said to the woman, breathing heavily.

"Thank you, dear," she said, busying herself with the spices once again. "Could you run back to the house and fetch a bucket of water? The floor needs mopping."

"Sure," he said, taking off running back out through the door.

Ursa glanced through the shop window, watching him race down the street, dodging people as he went. Then she turned back to the woman and smiled.

"What's his name?" she asked.

The woman looked up at her, a little surprised, but then smiled back softly. "Haru."

"He seems like a nice boy," Ursa muttered, rather wistfully.

"Yes, he's such a help to me," she replied, smiling a little more. "I don't know what I'd do without him. It's been so difficult since we lost his father."

"Oh," Ursa stammered, dismayed. "I'm – I'm so sorry. How did he die?"

The woman sighed, gazing at Ursa sorrowfully. "He didn't die," she answered after a pause. "He was arrested. He and the other Earthbenders of this town were all taken away by the Fire Nation, locked up in some prison, who knows where."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ursa muttered again, instinctively dropping her eyes, as if afraid the woman would suddenly recognize her as the ex-princess of the country that had stolen her husband from her. Even though Ursa herself had nothing to do with it, she couldn't help but feel a compulsory surge of guilt on behalf of her native country.

When the woman didn't speak again, Ursa ventured another timid question, "So, is it… has Haru managed all right, with one of his parents gone?"

The woman sighed again, wearily, and shook her head sadly. "Oh, he manages," she said reluctantly. "Children are resilient, you know. But it's been hard on him, certainly. He's not as carefree as he used to be. And, even though he doesn't talk about it to me much, I can tell he thinks about his father all the time."

"Hm," Ursa mumbled. Her heart felt heavy, crushed with unbearable weight. How were her children managing without her around?

Suddenly, Haru burst back into the doorway, panting and wide-eyed. "Mom!"

Both Ursa and the woman looked up, as a group of four Fire Nation soldiers marched into the little shop behind Haru. The boy himself hastily ran to his mother's side, staring at the soldiers with fear and hate. Ursa was instantly gripped with that reflexive panic, the perpetual paranoia of being seen, which hadn't diminished at all over the past few months. Hastily, discreetly, she hid her face in the hood of her cloak.

"We're here to collect the taxes for this week," the leader of the soldiers proclaimed casually.

"Yes, I know," the woman scowled, kneeling behind the counter and pulling out a small metal box. She took a handful of money out of the box and gave it to the head soldier. "There. That should cover what we owe you."

The soldier took a moment to count the coins, then smirked and nodded, tucking them into a jingling bag on his belt.

"Have a nice day," he said, mockingly, and gestured for his soldiers to follow him out. As they departed, one of the soldiers snatched up a large handful of fruit from one of the baskets near the door, stuffing it nonchalantly into his shirt.

Ursa fumed, glaring at them through the window. "They really think they can get away with anything, don't they?"

"That's because they can." The woman shook her head in aggravation. "They've imprisoned all of our Earthbenders. No one here can stand up to them. Last time we tried, all it brought us was sorrow and heavier taxes."

"It's not fair," Haru complained quietly.

"I agree," Ursa nodded. "It isn't right! No one should be able to treat other people like this! Someone really needs to put a stop to it."

But the woman just shook her head more forcefully. "The Fire Nation is too powerful. No one can fight against them. All we can do is survive."

"Maybe one day the Avatar will return," Haru said in a hush. "Then the stupid Fire Nation will get what's coming to them!"

"Haru!" his mother scolded him. "Don't speak of such things!"

But Ursa glanced at the boy, contemplating his words. A sudden idea sparked in her mind.

"The Avatar," she murmured thoughtfully. "Whatever happened to the Avatar, anyway?"

"The Avatar's been gone for a hundred years," Haru's mother said dismissively, in a tone that meant she wanted this conversation to end immediately. "He was probably killed along with the rest of the Air Nomads."

"But," Ursa frowned, "I'm not exactly an expert on these things. But if the Avatar was killed, wouldn't he just reincarnate into the Water Tribes?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't killed," Haru declared with conviction. "I think that the Avatar lived, and he's just been hiding, waiting for the right time to come back and take down the Fire Nation once and for all!"

"_Haru_!" his mother snapped severely, causing Haru to quail slightly. "Please! No more of that. Now, run along and finish your chores, and I don't want to hear another word about the Avatar or _anyone _taking down the Fire Nation. You understand?"

Grumbling, Haru crossed his arms and trudged out of the shop.

Ursa, however, wasn't quite ready to drop the issue. Approaching the counter where the woman was now sorting some herbs, she leaned in and whispered furtively, "I'm sorry, I know you'd prefer not to talk about this, but I'm curious to know what you think…"

The woman looked at her, frowning, still resistant to the subject.

"If the Avatar _was_ alive, somehow," Ursa asked carefully, "and maybe someone found him, or convinced him to come out of hiding… do you think he _could_ actually end this war?"

She studied Ursa for a pause, pondering, then shrugged with a weary sigh.

"Well," she murmured reluctantly, "I suppose if anyone could… But, if the Avatar _is_ somehow still alive, he'd be over a hundred years old by now. And I can't help but feel that if he was _going _to do something to end the war, then he should have done it well before now. I just don't see how things could change at this point. Too much damage has already been done."

Ursa mused for a moment. Finally, she offered the woman an encouraging smile. "Well, you never know," she said. "Maybe things _can_ change." Then, taking her small bag of generously donated food, she bowed her head respectfully to the woman. "Thank you again for the food. I hope one day I can repay you for your kindness. And good luck, to you and your son. I hope that both of your fortunes improve very soon."

The woman smiled faintly. "Well, you're welcome, dear," she said. "And thank you. I wouldn't count on our fortunes improving anytime soon. But the thought is appreciated."

* * *

><p>"<em>And so," Ursa continued, breathing deeply, "I got an idea into my head that, in retrospect, seems a little foolish. But at the time it didn't. It started out as just a small, silly idea – something I daydreamed about in my spare time – but the more I thought about it, the more it grew, until I couldn't think of anything else. I decided, stupid as it sounds, that somehow <em>I _would find the Avatar, and convince him to end the war._

"_I knew the Avatar had been missing for a hundred years, and that Fire Lord Sozin had scoured the world for him, with no success, and Azulon had tried again after Sozin – even imprisoning all the Waterbenders of the Southern Water Tribe, in case the Avatar reincarnated. But he also never found him. I knew the Avatar was a constant worry that had plagued the Fire Lords for a hundred years, since he was the only person in the world who might actually end their reign of terror, and yet his whereabouts were a persistent mystery._

"_I have to admit, even though I'd grown very sympathetic to the people of the Earth Kingdom, and to everyone who'd suffered under the Fire Nation's rule, my motivation for finding the Avatar was mostly personal… Ever since I left my children, I constantly feared for them growing up in the Fire Nation under the tyranny of Ozai. I dreaded that they would grow up to become monsters, just as he'd become a monster. But there was no way for me to return to the Fire Nation or influence their lives in any other way. The only way things could ever change would be if the Avatar defeated Ozai and removed him from the throne._

"_I know," she dropped her eyes, embarrassed. "I know, it seems like a stupid idea now. The Avatar was gone – I should have known no one would find him, least of all me..."_

_Sokka surreptitiously nudged Katara's elbow, whispering in her ear, "Do you think we should tell her?"_

_But Katara shook her head, smiling a bit. "We'll tell her when she's done with the story."_

"_But even still," Ursa went on, "I made up my mind that I would search the entire world, one way or another, and I'd never stop until I found the Avatar."_

"_Wow," Sokka couldn't help but comment quietly to Katara, "I guess that runs in the family, huh?"_

"_Sh," Katara hushed him._

"_My search only lasted a few months, however," she said, with a sigh. "It came to an end when I boarded a ship sailing out of the northern Earth Kingdom, headed for the mountains where the Western Air Temple was supposed to be…_"

* * *

><p>The ship lurched and creaked, battered by the rage of a violent storm.<p>

They were somewhere – who knew exactly where? – in the middle of the northern ocean, far from land and civilization and rescue. The storm had been brutally pounding them for what seemed like days now, throwing all its strength into ripping the ship apart, demolishing it completely.

Ursa was huddled along with all the other passengers and a few of the sailors, deep below decks, in a crowded storage room. Everyone was swaying, groaning, vomiting, clutching one another, grasping for something – _anything _– stable to hold on to, weeping, praying, and thinking of everyone they knew that they wanted more than anything just to see one more time.

Ursa was thinking of Zuko and Azula.

The entire dreadful ordeal became a long blur of terror and misery, and the storm was endless and ruthless. The ship creaked and groaned dangerously, sometimes feeling as if it had turned over completely on its side. When that happened, everyone hiding in the storage room would slide across the floor, piling on top of one another helplessly, desperately grasping at pipes and crates and anything else they could find to hold on to. Wails of fear and despair filled the small space, almost perpetually - a nightmarish ambience.

Then, suddenly – after what felt like weeks, months and years of this constant fear and misery – there was a crack that sounded different from all the other sounds the ship had been making.

After the crack, there was an agonized screeching, as if the ship itself were releasing a scream of death.

And after the screeching, the water came.

It exploded suddenly into the ship as the metal hull gave way at last. The ocean came roaring into the small storage room, gushing violently through the breach and flooding the entire space almost instantly.

Everyone screamed and ran, trampling each other and struggling through the rushing water, desperate to get out.

Ursa managed to reach the door of the room first, but with the water rolling against it, she couldn't pull it open. The others crowded around her, clawing and shrieking in wild terror. A few other hands joined hers on the handle of the door, and together, somehow, they managed to pull it open. And then the water rolled out into the hallway, carrying the people along with it.

It was utter chaos – icy ocean water, screaming, wailing, hands, legs, faces – everywhere. There was no up or down, only tumbling and gasping and fighting and clawing and panic, panic, panic.

Ursa never knew how, but somehow she emerged from the chaos and found herself up on the deck, with the sharp, vicious rain battering her flesh and the wind trying to rip her feet out from under her. The ship tilted and tilted, as wave after wave washed over it. Ursa saw people running everywhere, clutching each other, grasping at the railing of the ship, tumbling in the waves, always screaming.

And then, one massive wave crashed over the deck, taking Ursa with it.

All she knew was pain – wetness – darkness – and the feeling of the ground disappearing from beneath her feet –

Then she hit the ocean, and after that was only darkness.

* * *

><p>When she awoke, she was dry, and the air was light and golden.<p>

She was lying on her back, covered in a warm blanket, staring up at what looked like a dense, tangled forest.

Insects clicked in the gentle breeze all around her, and everything smelled of tangy wood and salty ocean, and it felt like summer. Like her summers as a child, on Ember Island. Back when life was happy.

She wondered if maybe she was dead.

Suddenly, a small, very odd animal leaped onto her stomach, making her lurch up and gasp in surprise. The thing was about the size of a monkey, but with white fur, a black face, _enormous _ears, and strange webbed appendages, like a bat's wings. The little animal sat on her stomach, munching on what appeared to be a juicy orange, staring at Ursa with wide, curious green eyes.

"Daidai, shoo!" came a voice, and behind it an elderly woman emerged into Ursa's line of vision, waving her hands at the little creature. The animal, chattering at the lady rather irritably, conceded to shoo, taking its orange and scurrying off into the forest.

"So sorry," the woman said, shaking her head. "Lemurs have very little sense of personal space."

Ursa gawked at the woman, her senses slowly returning to her. The woman was old – _very _old, if her myriad of wrinkles were any indication. Her head was partially shaved, and her long, gray hair fell from the crown of her head all the way to her waist. Her robes were light and flowing, orange and yellow. And on her forehead, and both of her hands, and both of her bare feet, were strange blue arrow tattoos.

"How are you feeling?" the woman asked Ursa, kneeling down beside her and helping her to sit up. "I brought you some water. You've been terribly dehydrated."

Ursa was still gawking at her like a confused infant, even as she took a small, crudely carven cup of water from the woman's hand and gulped it down gratefully. Then she turned her eyes upward and gawked at everything else: the strange forest - eerily, almost unnaturally dense (yet somehow it was the most natural place she thought she'd ever seen). The ground was remarkably hard, for a forest. Ursa felt like she'd been lying on stone, rather than soil. And everything moved with a barely noticeable swaying motion, like that of an extremely large ship. Beneath it all, was a constant, almost imperceptible... _throbbing_. Like a heartbeat, moving and pulsing in the air and in everything else, all at once.

"Where am I?" she asked dizzily.

"Hm," the strange woman muttered. "That's a question I'd prefer to answer later, if you don't mind. You may not be fully prepared for it right now. I _can _tell you that you're perfectly safe, though. And yes, you're definitely alive. And extremely lucky to be alive too, I might add, considering how we found you."

Suddenly, something in Ursa's mind fit together the way it was supposed to, and she blinked at the woman with a sudden realization.

"Wait – an Airbender!" she cried, pointing at the arrow tattoo on the woman's head with almost childish astonishment. "You're an Airbender!"

The woman nodded, smiling a little. She seemed rather amused at Ursa.

Ursa continued staring at her, wide-eyed with awe. Then, hesitantly, she whispered, "Are – are you the Avatar?"

For a moment, the Airbender looked very grave. But then she shook her head, and her expression softened. "Ah, no. No, I'm not the Avatar. I did meet him once, though, when I was a very young girl. Can't recall his name now, but I do remember he was a friendly boy. Liked to play games a lot."

"Do you know where I can find him?" Ursa asked urgently. "Please, I have to find the Avatar!"

"You won't find the Avatar here, I'm afraid," she said softly, becoming solemn once more. "Even if the Avatar I knew is still alive, he has not been one of us for nearly a century now. I certainly couldn't tell you where to look for him. But since you're here now, it wouldn't really matter even if I did know where to find him. You've come to a bit of a dead-end in your journey."

Ursa took a moment to process this information, breathing very hard and blinking slowly.

"So," she finally asked, "there are other Airbenders? Are they all here, in this place?"

The woman nodded.

"But…" Ursa frowned – her mind ached with the strain of absorbing this new revelation. "But – everyone thought – the Airbenders are supposed to be extinct."

She sighed very somberly, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, crushing down a dull pain. "I see," she whispered at last. "They are _all _gone, then, are they? Every last one?"

"Well," Ursa stammered, confused, "that's what I always thought. But clearly not – there's you, and you said there are others! How many are there? And _where are we_?"

"There are twenty of us, and we are somewhere apart from the world," she replied promptly, crossing her legs and gazing at Ursa serenely. "That's all you need to know, for now."

Ursa was silent for a very long time, still fighting to accept what she was being told, what she was seeing, everything. She'd found Airbenders, but no Avatar. She wasn't dead, but she was apart from the world – whatever that meant. She'd come to the end of her journey, but she hadn't found what she was looking for.

What was there to do, now?

She gazed pensively, helplessly, at the strange Airbender – who now had her eyes closed and appeared to be slipping off into a state of peaceful meditation.

"What's your name?" Ursa asked.

"Tseten."

Then she said nothing more. Ursa watched Tseten, waiting, wondering if she ought to say something else, wondering if she ought to lie down again and try to push herself back into unconsciousness. Tseten only sat there, eyes closed, serene and silent.

"Aren't you curious to know who I am?" Ursa finally asked, a little tentative about disturbing her.

"Who you are is your own business, and none of mine," Tseten replied calmly. "If you'd like to share it, I'd be more than happy to listen. But I won't force it out of you; it's up to you to offer it."

"So you don't care who I am?"

"Oh, of course I care. I can hardly help that. But it's still your own business."

For another long while, Ursa didn't say a word, struck with the novelty of this idea. All at once, a surge of hope began to rise up inside of her. She was 'apart from the world,' supposedly – and though she still had no idea what that meant, she didn't doubt the truth of Tseten's words. The Airbender didn't seem like a deceptive type of person. And, after all, no one had found the Airbenders for a hundred years, so their hiding place must be _pretty _effective.

She was apart from the world now – apart from the Fire Nation, and the war. No one knew who she was here, and Tseten didn't even want to _ask_.

All her shame, all her monstrous deeds, all the blood on her hands, all her sorrows, all her constant fears and anxieties – washed away. A clean slate.

Ursa smiled softly to herself. "Thank you for not asking, Tseten."

"You're very welcome!"

"You can call me Sen," she said suddenly, using the name of a great-aunt she'd met once when she was about six years old. She had no idea why the name had suddenly popped into her head, but it felt right.

Tseten opened her gray eyes, smiling gently down at Ursa. "Pleased to meet you, Sen."

* * *

><p>Later that day, Ursa met most of the other nineteen Airbenders, four of which (including Tseten) were considered the elders of the group, those who had been among the original eight refugees, and now kept order and peace in the small community. The forest on this strange island, as Ursa had noticed immediately, seemed to be incredibly dense everywhere – all except for one clearing, right at the crown of the island, where the oddly smooth, bafflingly hard ground emerged through the thick brush. The Airbenders had made that area the center of their community, and seemed to treat it almost with sacred reverence. All around the perimeter of this clearing, they slept and ate, though they had no houses or shelter whatsoever – only rough canopies constructed out of the thick foliage above, and small spaces below cleared out for sleeping. They apparently slept directly on the ground; it didn't bother them. And Tseten informed her that the forest was so thick that sometimes they couldn't even tell when it was raining.<p>

Eventually, she heard bits and pieces of the tale of how they'd come to be on this strange island: how the original eight, only children, had fled from Sozin's armies and been spirited away to safety. She also, eventually, heard the tale of how she herself had ended up here: tossed in the ocean, and delivered here right out of the sea.

No one explained it to her straight out, but gradually, through both of these stories, Ursa began to suspect that this island was more than just an island. That it was somehow alive.

Finally, early the next morning, Ursa rose up and went exploring, determined to discover the true nature of this eerie place.

She wandered for quite a while, moving slowly through the heavy forest, and at last arrived at the edge of the island. But there was no beach – the forest just dropped off into the ocean, quite suddenly.

But stranger still, the water rushed around the island, flowing off to the right, as if they were in the middle of a massively wide, lazy river.

Or – as if the island was moving, like a ship.

A moving island? But how was that possible?

Gazing deep into the water, Ursa thought she saw a large, dark shape, drifting alongside the sheer edge of the island. It seemed to surge upward, and then sway back down into the depths again, repeating the motion over and over.

Overcome with curiosity, at last she took a deep breath, and dove into the water.

The underside of the island was smooth and round, ridged and covered with moss and clusters of barnacles here and there. She swam a little further away, and was almost knocked senseless by a massive – _something_ – moving through the water. For a moment she lost her bearings, but when she looked again, she saw that the moving thing that had almost hit her was the same strange shape that she'd seen from the surface.

It was a leg. A scaly leg, broader and thicker than the most ancient tree trunk in the world.

Ursa burst back up to the surface, gasping in breathlessness and amazement.

An animal. The whole island was some impossibly enormous animal!

Hastily, she swam back to the island and clutched the hard bank, pulling herself up with difficulty. When she was out of the water, she lay flat on her back, letting her feet dangle, and stared up at the clear blue sky in wonder, and laughed.

* * *

><p>Tseten laughed as well, after Ursa returned from her journey of discovery.<p>

"Ah, so you figured it out for yourself, huh, Sen?" the old Airbender grinned. "Well, now you know. Yes, the whole island isn't an island at all, but a giant Lion Turtle. She is the most ancient of creatures in the world, more ancient than even the very first Avatar, and the last of her kind. It was the Lion Turtle who emerged out of the sea and rescued me and the others on the day of Sozin's attack. She also saved you, Sen. Pulled you straight out of the sea, like a fish."

Dizzy with wonder, and feeling as if she'd slipped off into some very surreal dream, Ursa finally wandered back to the place where she'd slept the night before, hoping to take a short nap and brood on her newfound knowledge. But when she arrived back at the spot, she found that the blanket Tseten had given her earlier was gone.

Frowning, she glanced around, and spotted a little Airbender boy vanishing into the trees a short distance away, dragging her blanket along with him.

So she followed after the boy, maneuvering through the thick branches until she found him in a small space, nestled beneath a thick tree trunk. He looked to be about four or five years old, and his bald head was blank – Ursa wasn't sure when the Airbenders customarily received their tattoos, but she assumed he was probably far too young to have earned his arrows yet. She watched him kneel on the ground, spreading the blanket out flat, with meticulous care. Then he stood, picking up a pile of sticks that he'd gathered nearby, and – with a grave, focused expression – began arranging the sticks in some sort of pattern on top of the blanket.

This strange ritual was rather amusing to her, so she didn't stop him for a few minutes. The way he frowned, scrunching his brow with serious concentration, reminded her a bit of Zuko at that age.

At last, though, she climbed over the fallen log and stepped out into his little work space.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "but – that was my blanket. It's not nice to take things without asking."

He looked up at her briefly, his round gray eyes pondering her curiously, then silently went back to arranging his sticks.

"Could I have my blanket back, please?" she tried again.

Wordlessly, without looking at her a second time, he just shook his head.

Ursa was baffled. "But… it's mine."

"No, it's not."

Ursa was even more baffled. She frowned slightly. "Well, yes, actually. It is. I was using it."

He only shook his head again. "Monk Denpo was the one who had it first. He brought it on the Turtle on the first day. Then after that it was Sister Sangmu's, and she gave it to Monk Gendun. But then Sister Tseten took it. And then she gave it to you. So now I'm taking it. It's whoever's, see? And I need it."

The urge to laugh almost overcame her – the boy had a way of speaking that was oddly formal, for someone so young. But she resisted. "Why do you need it?"

"Because."

Ursa smiled, helplessly, and finally sat down on the ground beside him, watching him arranging his sticks around the blanket.

"What's your name?" she finally asked.

"Yonten."

"I'm Sen."

"Hello."

She smiled again, wider. "So what are you making?"

"A glider."

"Oh." She furrowed her brow, perplexed. "Don't the other Airbenders have gliders you can use? Monk Gendun showed me some yesterday – "

Yonten shook his head again, solemnly. "No. They're all old. I'm making a better one. It'll be the best, and I can use it to fly far away to other places."

Ursa studied the boy carefully. "Why do you want to fly away, Yonten?"

He just shrugged. "I dunno. I want to see what's all out there."

"You know," she said slowly, "it's a lot safer here. There are a lot of bad things out there in the world."

Yonten looked at her, frowning – a flash of anxiety passed over his face. "But - there are good things too. Right?"

Ursa contemplated, gazing at his little face, and suddenly she was overcome with potent yearning - a desire more powerful than any desire she'd ever felt - for her children, and her home. All the things she'd never have again. The sound of Zuko's laughter when she tickled him. The rare vulnerable innocence that came into Azula's face when she slept. Warm summer days. The turtle ducks in the pond. The sound of the waves rolling along the Ember Island shore –

Ursa gazed at Yonten, and finally smiled and nodded.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "There are lots of good things, too. You're right."

"I'm going to see a flying bison," he announced suddenly, with firm conviction.

That time, she actually did laugh. "Well, uh…" She didn't have the heart to tell him that the flying bison were extinct. But then again, the Airbenders were supposed to be extinct too – yet here they were! So perhaps there _were _flying bison somewhere. Living on another Lion Turtle, naturally.

"Well, Yonten," she said at last. "Maybe you will see a flying bison one day."

"No, not maybe." He shook his head yet again. "I _will_."

She simply smiled. "Mind if I help you with your glider?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "But if you get in the way, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Ursa laughed again. "Fair enough."

* * *

><p>"<em>So I stayed with the Air Nomads on the Lion Turtle," Ursa said. "I grew especially close to Tseten, who became something of a mentor to me. And, of course, I also became quite attached to Yonten, and he to me; I became something of a mentor to him, and he was like a son to me. I never stopped missing Zuko and Azula, of course, but otherwise my life was perfect. I had no way of getting back home – and, honestly, I didn't want to. Finding the Air Nomads allowed me to shed my old identity and start a new life, free of fears and guilt. Or so I thought."<em>

_She sighed heavily, closing her eyes with pain and regret. _

_"Unfortunately," she continued, "after a few years, my old life caught up to me. My past came back to haunt me, mostly in nightmares. After a while, the nightmares became almost unbearable. It's hard to describe, but – it was like I was being eaten alive from the inside out by all these memories I couldn't escape from. I was ashamed of the horrible crimes I'd done; I was ashamed of abandoning my children. I dreamed that Zuko and Azula became monsters, just as Ozai had. After fifteen years, it all became so overwhelming that I… I finally slipped into what you might call a spiritual coma. Or a very powerful identity crisis. Both of those, mixed together. One long, horrible nightmare that I couldn't wake up from, where I kept reliving events from my past over and over again, and I was the monster, and I didn't know who I was anymore._

"_It wasn't until I finally accepted the fact that I had to stop denying that part of myself, stop hiding such a large part of who I was, and finally go back home and take responsibility for my actions, that I was able to escape the nightmare and wake up. _

_"But when I woke up, I found out that Yonten was gone. No Airbender had left in a hundred years, so… needless to say, it was a pretty big deal."_

_Ursa watched Yonten carefully as she explained this part of the story. But he kept his eyes focused on the ground, and seemed to be pretending not to listen._

"_I knew he'd always wanted to leave," she continued, with a sigh. "He was always like that, but I never thought he actually would. No one did. I had no idea where in the world he might have gone, but I did have something of an idea about what had made him leave. For about five years, a few of the Air Nomads had been receiving strange visions from the Spirit World. It started with the elders, and after them a few of the others received the visions too. No one ever spoke about them, and the elders all seemed to agree that it would be better to just ignore them. _

_"But Tseten did confess once to me that the vision she'd received had something to do with the Avatar, and that a female spirit with a blindfold had asked her to leave the island and deliver a message to someone. But Tseten, like all the others, was terrified of leaving, afraid that any Airbenders who left would instantly be hunted down and killed. I tried to assure her that wouldn't happen – but then, I wasn't completely sure myself, considering how desperately the Fire Lords had been searching for the Avatar. _

_"On top of that, the Air Nomads knew it would be all but impossible to find the Lion Turtle again once they'd left, so leaving the island almost certainly meant truly_ leaving_, forever - which, of course, none of them wanted to do_._ And, honestly, the other Air Nomads weren't particularly inclined to help the Avatar anyway, especially not if it meant such an enormous risk and sacrifice. Everyone assumed that if the spirits really needed someone to deliver this message, they could find someone in the outside world to do it._

"_Well, after I heard that Yonten had left, I figured that he must have finally gotten one of these messages himself. But, unlike the others, he'd actually gone to deliver the message as he was asked. So, since I'd already made up my mind that I was going to leave the island and return home anyway, to come back here and face my past and find my children, Yonten's disappearance only made me more determined to leave. I hoped that maybe, in the process of confronting everything else, I'd find him along the way somehow._

"_So finally, after living with the Air Nomads for fifteen years, I had the Lion Turtle deliver me back to Ember Island."_

* * *

><p>A moonless night hung gently over the sea surrounding Ember Island.<p>

Halfway between midnight and dawn, Ursa stood at the edge of the great forest on the back of the Lion Turtle, leaning against a thick tree and watching that familiar shoreline draw nearer and nearer. Her past becoming her future, slowly but surely. And behind her, the peaceful floating oasis, the forgetful dream that she should have known all along could never last – not for her – the world apart from the world. All she was leaving behind, never to return to.

It had been so long. Such a long, long time.

Would they remember her? Zuko and Azula? Surely they hadn't forgotten her. But would they remember her kindly?

Ursa shuddered, already imagining the worst. What sort of reception would she receive upon arriving home?

The mother who'd abandoned her children, left them vulnerable in the hands of a man she _knew _was a cold, calculating tyrant. The mother who left them to fend for themselves their whole lives, without a positive guiding influence.

A murderous, treasonous mother – a monstrous mother. Did they hate her? Could she remind them that they'd once loved her?

Oddly, the fear that was farthest from her mind was that of being captured and tried for her crimes. It was a fear that, sixteen years ago, had driven her all over the world. It had driven her to the Air Nomads, ultimately. But now she was hardly concerned with it at all. If she was captured, so be it. If they took her life, then that was that. At least she would finally be free of her guilt. At least she would die knowing that she'd made things right.

Out of the sea, the Lion Turtle's head emerged, water pouring from its millions and millions of ancient wrinkles, slipping through the coarse hair of its mane.

The massive creature soon rolled herself heavily up to the beach, displacing massive waves, yet hardly making a sound. Ursa took one last moment to linger in the deep vibrations, the chanting heartbeat of the Lion Turtle as it pounded with increased intensity in the soul of the earth itself. She paused one last time to savor that fathomless aroma – the thick, rich, unsettling smell of beginningless time.

After a long, pulsing silence, the Lion Turtle's enormous leg emerged from the trembling water and rose up to meet her. She stepped carefully onto the massive leg, and her hair and robes stirred in the breeze as she was lowered down to the shore.

Ursa hesitated. Was she really doing this? Was she really returning to this old life, and all the horrors and tragedies it contained, leaving behind the idyllic world of safety and comfort she'd enjoyed for fifteen years now?

Yes – she had to. She couldn't turn back now. She'd already spent far too long trying to escape and forget. It was time to wake up and remember who she was.

It was time.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the Lion Turtle's leg and landed lightly on the sand, turning back to face the great sacred creature.

"_Have no fear_," the Lion Turtle said, in her gentle, resonant voice. "_Those who live not for themselves, but for others, will find the peace that they seek_."

She smiled solemnly, and began to bow, when suddenly she heard the voice of her friend Gendun – who was a few years younger than herself – calling to her from the Lion Turtle's back.

"Sen!" he cried, and she saw him perched at the edge of the forest, with a pleading look in his eyes. "Don't do this, I beg you!"

"I must, Gendun," she replied sadly, but firmly. "I'm sorry."

"But you will never be able to return," he said, his voice aching with grief.

"I know," she said, her own heart heavy with sorrow. "But I can't stay. Not anymore. It has to be this way. It's time."

Instead of attempting to argue with her further, Gendun suddenly launched himself into the air on a swift burst of wind, drifting down to the sandy shore beside her and gathering her into his arms. She hugged him back, struggling not to cry. At last, he pulled away, holding her at arm's length. For a quiet pause, he simply studied her face, searching for meaning or explanation. Something in her expression must have persuaded him of her purpose, because at last, he merely sighed regretfully, and nodded.

"We will miss you."

"I'll miss you all so much," she said, fighting desperately against the tears. "Good-bye, Gendun. Please explain to the others why I've gone, and – and tell Tseten that she's the most caring and wonderful person I've ever know, and I'll never forget all she's done for me."

"I will," he nodded. "She'll understand why you've gone."

"Thank you."

"Good-bye, Sen. And good luck. I pray you find what you're looking for."

Her eyes dropped to the ground for a moment – she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They tumbled down her cheeks uncontrollably, and her body quivered with sobs. Overcome with grief, she threw her arms tightly around Gendun once more. At last, she reluctantly released him, and he launched himself back into the air, vanishing into the dark forest on the Lion Turtle's back. She would never see him – she'd never see any of them – ever again.

"_Be strong, dear mother_," the Lion Turtle said soothingly, sensing her anguish. "_And do not look back_."

No. She couldn't look back. It was time to move forward. It was time.

Gathering her resolve, Ursa bowed to the the Lion Turtle, and then stood there on the shore, serene and steadfast, watching as the living island slowly drifted back out to sea and vanished into the darkness.

For a long time, she couldn't move from that spot, even when the Lion Turtle was far out of sight, vanished forever, without hope of return. Finally, though, she did turn away – away from the sea – away from forgetfulness. It was one of the most difficult turns she'd ever made in her life, second only to turning away from Zuko on the night she left him.

She made her way across Ember Island, her bare feet recalling the feeling of those paths, all her senses drinking in the overwhelming details of the place, her mind carrying her back to memories that she had not visited in many years. At last she found herself in her family's abandoned vacation home, where she wandered the halls, absorbing it all carefully.

And in one room in the mansion, she found a small ceramic slab on display, with Zuko's small handprint embedded in it. Her own fingers drifted over its surface gently, tracing out the shape – remembering. And a single tear rolled down her cheek.

* * *

><p>"… <em>And so," Ursa finally finished her long tale. "Here I am."<em>


	26. An Extra Passenger

_In contrast to the previous one, this is gonna be a relatively short, relatively light-hearted chapter (RELATIVELY). Not much happens in it, so I'm sorry. But there were a few things that needed to be wrapped up before I moved on to the next part of the story. So it's really more of a transition chapter, but I thought it would be nice to have a little light-heartedness right before some of the intense stuff really gets going… Because things are gonna be pretty intense non-stop from here on out. We're getting closer and closer now! And I think we might also be due for another "dream chapter" sometime soon…_

Aang: "Does that mean I'll get to be in it?" :D  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well, yeah! Can't have a dream chapter without you! But it might not be until two or three chapters from now. Depends on how things go… Or, well, I might decide not to do it at all if I can't write one good enough… So, don't get your hopes up too much."<br>Aang: :'(  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw, don't make that face at me, Aang! You're like a sad little puppy. I can't stand it."<br>Aang: "Hey, wait a minute… If my face is stolen, then how can I make a sad face at you? Also, how can I talk to you? Also, how did I eat that custard tart two chapters ago? I'm beginning to think there's no logic to these Author's Notes of yours."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>shifty eyes<em>* "Sh! I'll give you another custard tart if you don't mention that ever again."  
>Aang: :D<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN EXTRA PASSENGER<strong>

As Ursa finally brought her long story to a close, exhaling with grave weariness and shutting her eyes to gaze inward on herself, a thick silence drifted through the garden. Everyone stared at her, speechless with awe and solemn contemplation.

Suddenly, Sokka broke the silence. "I've got it!" he declared. "We'll call you Turtle-Ursa! No, wait – _Tursa_!"

Everyone turned their eyes to him, un-amused and thoroughly disoriented by his sudden disruption of the mood.

He was grinning at all of them hopefully. "Get it? Because… she lived on a giant turtle? Tursa? It can be her nickname?... No?" His grin dissolved, and he sighed. "Fine. I'll keep working on it. But we're keeping that as a backup in case I don't think of anything better."

"How could you never tell me who you really were, Sen?" Yonten asked her softly, glaring at her with quiet injury in his eyes.

"Yonten," she replied gently, giving him a pleading gaze. "Sweetheart – you always said you didn't need to know. Remember? We all agreed that my past was my own business, and it didn't matter anymore. It doesn't change who I am."

"But," he stammered, shaking his head fiercely. "But – _yes_, it does! It does change everything! We all thought you were just an ordinary person who'd had a difficult life – "

"I am!" she protested desperately. "I'm no different than I've ever been!"

"No, you're not," he argued. "You were the Princess of the Fire Nation! You were married to the Fire Lord! Your family was responsible for _everything_ – for the deaths of all the other Air Nomads, for forcing us to hide all those years, for – for everything! And not only that, you murdered a man in cold blood, and you helped put a tyrant on the throne, and… It's too much, Sen! Or _Ursa_, I suppose I should call you now. " He spat her true name rather disdainfully, overcome with anger and hurt.

"Yonten," she gasped. "Please, don't – "

"It was wrong for you to hide so much from us," he went on, choking faintly and clenching his teeth. "It's wrong that you never told _me_, at least! How could you keep all this from me all these years? Didn't you care?"

For a transient moment, he looked to all of them not like an adult, but like a small child suffering through a loss or affliction that he didn't understand – as if someone he'd loved dearly, someone he'd depended on, had just died without warning. Ursa couldn't reply, too smothered in her own disgrace. How many times now had she earned the disdain of one of her children?

"For my whole life," Yonten finally murmured, squeezing his eyes shut bitterly, "I thought I knew who you were, who you _really _were, no matter what your name was or where you used to live. But I never… I feel like you're not the person I thought you were at all. I don't know you at all."

Ursa dropped her eyes to the ground in shame, biting her lower lip and allowing a broken tear to roll down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice quivering with the tremors of her breaking heart. "I'm so, so sorry. You're right. And you're completely justified in being angry at me, darling. I should have told you. I was just afraid… You and the other Air Nomads were the only people in the world who knew nothing about who I was. I was safe there. After what I'd done, there was nowhere else in the world that was safe for me. If I'd have brought that part of my life with me into that place – it would have ruined it. It would have ruined _everything_. Can you understand that?"

But Yonten didn't seem inclined to understand, even if he was capable of it. He just stared at her for a few moments, and finally turned away from her again, refusing to say another word.

Everyone else had remained silent throughout this exchange, feeling that it was none of their business to interfere. But now that it seemed Yonten was not going to speak to her any longer, Iroh at last ventured to ask her another question, quietly.

"So, when did you get back, Ursa? And how long have you been here in the city?"

"Well," she said reluctantly, "I've – I've actually been, uh… I guess you could say I've been doing 'surveillance' near the palace for about two weeks now – "

"You mean, lurking and spying?" Toph specified, with a light smirk.

Her eyes shifted awkwardly. "Well, yes. That's a more blunt way of putting it. To be perfectly honest, it's a wonder it took me this long to finally get caught by someone. I know I shouldn't have been so secretive, but I've been terrified to come out and show my face." Briefly, she growled in frustration at herself. "I came back here to confront my past, but now that I'm actually here, I've been too cowardly to do it! I'm starting to feel like everything I do – or, _don't_ do – is all dictated by fear. I'm just… It's been… It's been difficult."

"So," Katara interrupted anxiously, "so you must have been here in the palace before Zuko left, right? Did you talk to him?"

She nodded slowly, cringing. "Yes, I _did _talk to him… somewhat."

"What do you mean, somewhat?" Sokka asked.

"Well," she mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed ashamedly on the ground before her. "See, I… I didn't exactly come out and say hello. I was a bit, uh, cryptic about how I approached him. I'm not even sure he realized that I was actually here. He probably thought he was seeing things. Poor Zuko – I feel terrible about it. But I just – I couldn't face him. Not yet. I almost wasn't going to speak to him at all, but when I saw what Azula was doing – "

"So you saw Azula!" Katara interrupted her again. "Do you know where she is now?"

She breathed yet another sigh of frustration. "No! Unfortunately, I completely lost track of her! When I first arrived here, I saw her sneaking into the palace almost immediately. I couldn't – I couldn't believe the state she was in." She shuddered, shaking her head remorsefully. "My poor girl. I don't know what's happened to her. I mean, she was always a little bit _strange_, I'll admit. Even disturbing, at times. But now she's – "

"Completely off her rocker?" Sokka finished her sentence grimly. "A homicidal maniac? Yeah. Um – sorry about that. Can't be much fun to find that out about your own daughter. My condolences?"

The older woman shook her head again savagely, pressing her fingers over her eyelids. "I'm so sorry, I – I can't help but feel it's all my fault. The way I just abandoned her. She was so young, and…" She trailed off, taking a moment simply to breathe, clearly wrestling against severe grief and self-loathing.

"That was also part of what made me afraid to speak to Zuko," she went on at last. "I couldn't imagine what effect my disappearance might have had on him. And after seeing Azula, seeing what she'd become… How much she despised me… I couldn't bear to face him. Also – to be completely truthful, I _was _still afraid that I might be forced to pay the consequences of my past treason. I thought that fear was behind me, but as soon as I was back in the palace again, it came back to me. Not strongly enough to drive me away again, obviously; but enough to make me stay hidden. I didn't expect Zuko would be very sympathetic to me, after not seeing me for sixteen years. So I kept myself concealed, just observing, mostly trying to keep Azula in my sight. I think she thought that I was just some kind of vision, or – or maybe her mind is just so far gone now that she… I don't know. All I know is that now she's just completely disappeared."

Sokka sighed wearily. "Yeah. She does that."

"You must come with us!" Uncle declared suddenly.

"What?" shouted Sokka, Toph and Yonten simultaneously.

"We are going to the North Pole. All of us," he explained. "Zuko is on his way there right now – Or, well, at least, we're about ninety-nine percent certain he is. You must come with us, Ursa! He'll be so happy to see you! I know you might not think so, but he will, I promise."

Then Katara, the only one of the group (besides Little Ursa) who hadn't shouted in surprise at Uncle's suggestion, nodded and quietly said, "Yes, I agree. I think you should come with us."

Sokka glanced at his sister, taken aback. "Really? But just a little while ago, you didn't even want Uncle and Ursa Junior to come with us."

"Ursa Junior?" Toph remarked dryly. "Yeah. Keep trying, Sokka."

Katara looked back at her brother, contemplating, then at the elder Ursa. "No," she said. "I think we all need to go. I think we ran into you for a reason, Ursa. I don't know why, but maybe… maybe that was the whole purpose of our coming back here. To run into you. We thought we were coming here for a different reason. But – maybe you _need _to be with us. I just feel like this was meant to happen."

Sokka frowned at her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes or scowl, keeping his thoughts cautiously to himself. There was that _Destiny_ nonsense, rearing its seductively inevitable head again. He couldn't help instantly revolting against Katara's statement, against the notion that some force had brought them together for a mysterious purpose. It was his knee-jerk reaction, to revolt; he was aware of that, too. But still. The idea struck him as nothing but an excuse, a way of shifting responsibility for their situation to some vague cosmic power. He questioned whether Katara truly believed what she was saying, or if she was just using _Destiny_ as a defense mechanism, as a way to alleviate her own guilt and worry about their wasted trip to the Fire Nation, by somehow justifying it.

But there was no chance in the world he was going to say so aloud. Not now. Not to Katara, in the position she was in.

No – those were thoughts better kept to himself. But he did have another protest, nonetheless.

"Hold on, Katara," he said carefully. "Not that I want to leave Grandma Ursa out of our adventure here – "

Toph sniggered. "Grandma Ursa? Okay, I kinda like that one."

" – But," he went on, ignoring Toph, "lest we forget, we're not traveling by _boat_. We're traveling by _bison_. And, unlike a boat, bison gets tired. Real tired. Bison has a pretty strict weight limit. I'm not sure Appa's gonna handle this very well."

"But!" Uncle protested, gesturing persuasively at the former princess. "But! But – _URSA!_" He didn't add anything else; that seemed to be the full extent of his argument.

At last, Toph interjected her own opinion cautiously. "Sokka, I hate to say this, but I think I'm actually with Uncle and Katara on this one. I know you're worried about Appa, but I think he's got a lot more in him than you give him credit for. And, honestly, it would be really weird to leave her behind here, after running into her like this, after she's been missing for sixteen years. Not only that, but leaving her behind _all by herself_ in the palace, hiding behind columns and stuff? I mean, what if someone else catches her and recognizes her while we're gone? Zuko's not in charge here at the moment, so who knows what they might do to her? What if we meet up with Zuko again and tell him we found his long-lost mom, and then when we finally get back she's already been put on trial and executed, or something?"

Ursa swallowed hard at that thought.

"Plus, Azula's probably still lurking around here somewhere too. I don't know if she'd do anything to her, but you never know with Azula." Toph shrugged. "And anyway, what would we say to Zuko when we ran into him? 'Oh, by the way, there's a nifty surprise waiting for you at home! You're _never _gonna guess who we found! Sorry we didn't bring her with us. Hopefully she's still alive by the time we get back!'… It just seems really wrong, you know?"

Sokka scratched his head, wincing uncomfortably. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I don't want to leave her behind either. I'm just worried – "

"I know, but," Toph sighed, also making an uneasy face, "I mean, we _do _still have two weeks to get there, right? So if we need to take Appa a little slower than normal…"

Katara sucked in her breath sharply. Against her will, a small whimper of agony escaped from her, spurting out of the bowels of her heart as she felt it trodden down, with ruthless force, by the weight of each extra day, each extra second that widened the distance between her and Aang.

Sokka glanced at her and, almost instantly, his expression became resolute – hardened by her wordless anguish – and he gave her a small, firm smile.

"No," he said. "Katara, we'll get you there on time, no matter what it takes. We'll get you there _ahead_ of time. Appa… Appa can make it. I know his limits, and he _can _do it. He may not _like _it, in the short-term. But he'll forget all about that as soon as you bring Aang back. Which you _will_. So, no more talk about going slow and wasting time. We're gonna go fast, and we'll be there before you know it. All right?"

Katara smiled at her brother quietly, brimming with gratitude. She had no idea when he'd given up his skeptical misgivings about this trip. But finally having his full support bolstered her immensely, raising her spirits more even than she'd anticipated it would. She wondered now if she'd be able to do this at all, without him.

"Hey, Pipsqueak?" Toph asked, in a surprisingly gentle tone. "You've been real quiet for a while. Are you okay with all this?"

Yonten hesitated, his gazed turned inward in conflicted brooding. But at last he sighed. "Yes. It's fine with me."

"Let's get going then!" Uncle cried cheerfully. "There's no more point in dallying around this place! We've got a deadline to meet!"

"Right," the elder Ursa said hesitantly, rising to her feet with the rest of them. "I have a question, though – just out of curiosity. Why the North Pole? And what's the hurry, exactly? And also, I'm _dying _to know, how in the world did you all manage to get a flying bison? I can't say I'm that surprised to find out they're not extinct after all. But still – where did you find it?"

Sokka snickered. "Oh, Grandma Ursa," he said. "We've got a pretty great story to tell you, too. But we _are _in a bit of a rush, so you'll just have to hear it along the way. It should help pass the time nicely."

"Mm, hey, um," Little Ursa mumbled shyly, tugging on Sokka's sleeve. "Can Momo come too?"

Sokka glanced at her, and chuckled, pulling Momo off of his own shoulder and handing him to her. "Yes, we'll bring Momo too."

* * *

><p>Appa was none too pleased to be woken from his nap, and even less pleased to find an extra passenger climbing onto his back. But he had recovered his strength for the time being – whatever strength he could – and so, when Sokka flicked his reins and cried the usual, "Yip yip!" Appa flapped his massive tail without argument, and launched himself into the air.<p>

"Whoa – OHH – _OH MY GOODNESS_!"

Toph snickered, clutching the side of Appa's saddle alongside the elder Ursa. The woman was clinging to any surface she could hold on to, her body pressed flat against the bottom of the saddle.

"Yeah," Toph muttered. "It sucks, huh?"

But the elder Ursa laughed – a bubbling laugh that burst out of her irrepressibly. Cautiously inching herself up into a sitting position, she glanced over the side of the saddle and watched the ground fall farther and farther away.

"It's amazing!" she cried. "Absolutely invigorating! I can't believe you do this all the time!"

Sokka and Katara both smiled quietly, exchanging glances. However, the person they were both thinking of – Yonten – was still keeping to himself, solemnly sitting against the farthest back end of the saddle, shielding himself off from the rest of the group with a wall of brooding silence. Uncle had reclaimed his comfortable spot, the place that he'd lain on their entire journey there, alongside Katara. And Little Ursa sat on the other side of Katara, folded wordlessly up into herself, watching her strange grandmother intently, with Momo sprawled lazily in her lap.

After they'd ascended to a sufficient height, and Appa leveled off into his usual tranquil gliding, the wind ceased to bellow in their ears and everything settled into the lulling calm of gentle flight that most of them were so familiar with. Katara then cleared her throat, addressing the elder Ursa tentatively – though her eyes betrayed the anxious urgency of her question.

"So," she asked, "Ursa, did… You didn't happen to see my son Tenzin, by any chance, did you? He's about five years old, black hair – "

Ursa, who hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from the view, now turned and glanced back, brows furrowed briefly. Then her entire face lit up. For a moment, she seemed stunned: too stunned to reply. And she gaped at Katara, wide-eyed and beaming. "Oh! You're – you're his mother?!"

"Yes!" Katara cried eagerly, impatient to hear anything about her son. "You saw him! How did he look? Was he okay?"

"He was fine, last I saw him," she nodded, though her answer seemed hasty – distracted. She leaned forward and gazed at Katara with a very odd expression: eyes sparkling, with a wide, tremulous smile. "He's – he's a beautiful little boy! I'm surprised that you – ! Why didn't you tell me before?"

Katara hesitated, somewhat bewildered by the woman's enthusiasm. "Well, I, uh… I didn't think you'd be so interested…?"

"Of course!" Ursa exclaimed, laughing with joyful amazement. "How could I not be? So – Katara, right? – I'm so glad we ran into each other! I've been so curious about the boy, ever since I saw him. You and Zuko must be very proud! Tell me, how did you and Zuko meet? I want to hear everything!"

"Oh!" Katara stammered, blinking in surprise. "Wait – you think…? No! No, no, no! Zuko and I aren't… we're not married! Is that what you thought?"

The older woman's happy smile faltered, dissolving into an expression of disappointment, and slightly troubled confusion. "Oh. You're not married?"

"No! No, no! _No_," Katara said, shaking her head fervently. Then, suddenly, she flushed with embarrassment, realizing that maybe she was denying it a little _too _fervently – afraid that she might offend Ursa by so fiercely objecting to the idea of being married to her son. Awkwardly, she tried to tone herself down, stuttering; her stomach churned nervously. "Ah – um, no. No. But – but Zuko's wonderful, really. He's one of the best people I know. We've been through a lot together. But… um, no. Not married. Uh… sorry."

A painfully awkward silence fell upon the group. Uncle scratched at his beard uncomfortably, but kept his mouth shut for now. Toph clicked her tongue and muttered simply, "Yep."

The elder Ursa's troubled expression melted into an even _more _troubled frown. Now she was staring at Katara with something like nervous distrust, or disappointed concern, or – or – Katara couldn't quite put a label on it, but it certainly made her feel as if she were being judged in some way. Weighed on the scales of Ursa's mind.

"So – why…?" Ursa finally broke the silence, searching for the proper question to ask. She seemed as if she were attempting to tread very carefully, afraid of insulting Katara in some way. "Um… So, then, are you – ? I'm so sorry, I hope this isn't rude of me to ask. But… you aren't Zuko's…? I mean, what exactly _are _you, to Zuko?"

"Friends," Katara declared very hastily, flushing even more fiercely. She got the feeling that she was inadvertently making the _worst_ impression on Zuko's mother that she possibly could. The woman must have been imagining she was some kind of terrible floozy. "We're friends. Zuko and I – very good friends. That's all."

"Don't worry, Ursa," Iroh interjected helpfully, attempting to salvage some of Katara's dignity. "Your son is nothing but honorable, I promise. And so is Katara here. But I'm afraid that Zuko isn't married. He _was_, though, some years back. You remember Mai?"

"Azula's little friend?" Ursa said, beginning to smile again. "Of course! She was always such a quiet girl."

Sokka chortled. "Oh, she could _talk_. At least, when she had something she thought was worth saying."

"Little Ursa here is Mai's daughter," Iroh explained, gesturing at the little girl, who – living up to her mother's reputation – was still refusing to speak.

"Oh, I see," Ursa replied, smiling softly at her young granddaughter. "Yes, of course! _Mai_. I should have guessed. You look a lot like your mother, sweetheart."

Little Ursa smiled feebly, but still kept silent.

"Unfortunately," Iroh went on sadly, "Mai passed away, around five years ago. And Zuko has never remarried."

Katara was glad that he hadn't mentioned _how _Mai passed away. The poor woman could probably only handle so much at a time, and the news of her son losing his wife, at such a young age, would be difficult enough without learning that it was her own daughter who had committed the murder.

The elder Ursa's face fell, overcome with sorrow. Katara could see each of her anguished thoughts scrawled over every inch of her face, exposed like the words of an open book. How much else of her son's life had she missed out on? Zuko had been married, and now his wife was gone, and Ursa was too late. What other opportunities would she never have again? How many times had her son suffered, without her there to give him comfort and support through his grief?

After a pensive silence, she glanced up at Katara again. "So, then, Zuko _isn't _Tenzin's father?"

"No," Katara said, shaking her head again and feeling the weight of her own grief and guilt. "No, he's not."

"Ah, I see," Ursa nodded, dropping her eyes mournfully. "I'm so sorry. I just misunderstood. I saw the boy living there in the palace, and I assumed… I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Katara said quickly, offering her a faint smile to let her know there were no ill feelings. "I can see where you'd get that idea."

"Don't worry," Sokka added, rather wryly. "It's a pretty common misconception, actually."

Hesitating, Ursa spoke to Katara again. "If you don't mind my asking, dear – and I know we don't know each other very well yet, so I completely understand if you don't want to answer. But… where _is _Tenzin's father?"

"Well," Katara breathed. "That's – that's sort of where we're on our way to, now."

Ursa nodded, gazing at Katara with something far too close to _pity_ for Katara's liking. "So, is his father from the Northern Water Tribe, then?"

"No, no!" Katara shook her head again, rather defensively. Perhaps it was only her own insecurities reading too much into the woman's behavior, but Katara sensed that Ursa was forming some new conclusion about her – some idea that perhaps Tenzin's father had abandoned them. "No, he's not from there. He's – "

"His father's the Avatar," Toph announced impatiently.

Katara sighed wearily. "Yes, that. Thanks, Toph."

"You take too long to get to the point," she complained.

Now the elder Ursa looked even more confused – and thoroughly astonished. "The Avatar?" she gasped. "You mean, _the _Avatar?"

"_No_, the other Avatar," Toph remarked sarcastically.

"Ahem. Please ignore her bad attitude, Grandma Ursa," Sokka spoke up in defense of Toph. "Flying makes her cranky."

"Yes, it does," Toph agreed. "And yes, Tenzin's father is the Avatar. The one and only."

"Aang," Katara added softly. "His name is Aang."

"But – how is that possible?" Ursa cried, breathless.

Toph unleashed a devious snicker. "Well, see, Katara and Aang had some pretty massive boners for each other back in the day – "

"Toph! _Really_?!" Sokka and Katara both shouted in unison. Katara quickly covered Little Ursa's ears, again trying futilely to shield the girl's innocent mind from Toph's corrupting bluntness. Uncle, however, merely chuckled to himself.

"… By which I mean, of course, that they were super-adorable, innocent, celibate cuddle-buddies," Toph corrected herself facetiously, with a sly smirk, clearly taking quite a bit of entertainment out of making them uncomfortable. "And they ended up making a baby with each other, by cuddling so hard all the time – _obviously_ – and then… Well, and then Aang just disappeared. We didn't know what happened to him for a while, but now we do, thanks to Yonten. So we're on our way right now to find him and bring him back home. So that he and Katara can get married and make lots more babies."

Katara was blushing ferociously. "Toph!"

"What? It's true." She shrugged, grinning. "Oh, come on, Katara. Don't act all offended. You know that's _exactly_ what you're gonna do as soon as he gets back. And don't even pretend you haven't thought about it at all, either."

Katara didn't respond to that, though she blushed even more violently.

"Hey, uh," Sokka spoke up uncomfortably. "Can we please talk about something other than my little sister making babies with Aang? Please? Literally _anything _else would be preferable."

The elder Ursa seemed utterly flummoxed, and she was blushing as well, gaping at Katara with a slight grimace. "Wait – " she stumbled. "Is this – ? This _is _the same Avatar that I was looking for all those years ago, right? The one that disappeared over a century ago?"

Katara nodded and mumbled, "That's him" – still thoroughly humiliated (though a _very _tiny smile lurked around the corners of her mouth).

The older woman grimaced quite plainly now, as if she'd just caught a whiff of some repulsive stench. Once again, she gawked at Katara in a way that made the younger girl feel as if she were being judged somehow, though clearly Ursa was fighting not to make any hasty conclusions about her.

"I'm – uh, I'm sorry," Ursa murmured, rubbing her forehead with slight embarrassment and obvious discomfort. "I shouldn't… I mean, I don't mean to be, um, prudish. But – well – isn't the Avatar – I mean, wouldn't he be a little _old _for you, dear?... As in, about a hundred years too old?"

Katara blinked, taken aback. Aang's true age was such common knowledge, she'd completely taken it for granted that the elder Ursa would already understand. Blushing again, and almost laughing, Katara opened her mouth to hurry and clear up the confusion –

Unfortunately, Toph beat her to the draw – and the look of sudden, eager delight on her face told Katara that she was about to regret not speaking up more quickly.

"Why, _yes_!" Toph exclaimed, grinning gleefully. "Now that you mention it, he _is _old! He's _really _old! He's really, really, REALLY old! Katara, tell us, how old _would _Aang be now, huh? Let's see… _A hundred and twenty-one_, right? You sick, _sick_ woman, you!"

Both Sokka and Uncle were laughing uproariously now – especially Sokka.

"Now, Toph!" Sokka scolded her, gasping with laughter. "Leave Katara alone! It's not our place to judge. Everyone's got their own taste, after all!"

Toph dissolved into hysterical laughter herself. "Aw, you're right, Sokka. Love knows no age! Who are we to say it's wrong?"

"_Exactly_!" Sokka guffawed uncontrollably.

"You know, I never thought about this before, but it's kind of amazing that Aang was able to father a child at all at such an elderly age, isn't it?" Toph went on ruthlessly, snorting with laughter.

"I know, right?" Sokka cried. "It's downright _miraculous_!"

With a dull, exasperated frown, Katara quickly intervened to quell this nonsense before it got out of hand.

"He was frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years and didn't age," she explained to Ursa hastily, matter-of-factly. "So, yes, _technically_ he's pretty old. But _no_ – in all physical, mental, emotional and practical respects, he'd be _twenty-one_ now, not a hundred and twenty-one. Which these two jerks both know perfectly well, but they're just being jerks. Thanks a lot, guys."

Even still, despite her irritated tone, Katara couldn't suppress a discreet smile.

The elder Ursa immediately released a sigh of relief. "Oh! Well – _good_! That's good. That makes much more sense." Then the first part of Katara's explanation – regarding the iceberg – actually hit her, and she shook her head with a rather bewildered shrug. "It's definitely _odd_. But I must admit, I'm relieved. The idea of someone as young as you, with…" She shuddered. "It was a rather disturbing thought. But I'm very glad to hear that's not the case."

Toph's laughter finally settled down into satisfied sighs, and she wiped away a small tear of mirth from her eye. "Oh, man," she gasped. "Well, that was fun while it lasted. Thanks, Grandma Ursa. Your confusion just made my day."

"Toph, I'm so glad we decided to bring you on this trip," Sokka chuckled. "Have I mentioned that yet?"

"Eh. You could stand to mention it more," she grinned.

Katara didn't say so aloud, but she had to admit… at that moment, she was also especially grateful for Toph's presence. Though she kept it to herself, deep down, Katara didn't mind being teased; she was almost happy about it. Not only because the mood, the situation – _everything_ – suddenly felt a million times lighter than it had in days, but also because, lurking beneath the surface of Toph's jokes, Katara distinctly heard an unquestioned assumption being repeated. The assumption that Aang _would _be saved, and that they _would _be together again – that it was all so inevitable that there was almost no point in worrying about it at all.

Whether or not Toph actually believed that, and regardless of what Katara herself believed at this point (which she honestly didn't know), it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the burden on Katara's heart was, for a fleeting moment, somewhat lightened. And that was an immense, and greatly appreciated, relief.

"We should probably explain the iceberg thing to Grandma Ursa," Sokka remarked, glancing over his shoulder at Katara.

"Let's just tell the whole story," Toph suggested, lounging back in the saddle and picking her nose lackadaisically. "It's a good story. And we've got time to kill."

And so they did. While the hours flew by, and Appa carried them over the jagged, wild landscape of the Fire Nation, and finally out over the open ocean, the sun sank slowly toward the horizon, and they all took turns telling Zuko's mother their stories. And eventually, Yonten conceded to open up again as well, listening to the tale with curiosity. And Little Ursa, who'd heard some of the stories before, but never the entire saga from beginning to end, also perked up and – after a while – began to talk and chat comfortably with the rest of them as usual, even with her grandmother.

And when the story had been told, and the sun had gone to sleep for the day – as everyone else began to drift off as well – Katara stayed awake, leaning against the side of the saddle, gazing off to the starry ocean spread out before them. Somewhere, far off beyond that dark horizon, just a little too far to see, lay the North Pole, and the Spirit Oasis, and her own bright-eyed, gentle-hearted, hundred-twenty-one year old Airbender, patiently awaiting her to come and bring him back from the dead.

Finally, for the first time in a very long time, Katara fell asleep without fear of her own dreams.

* * *

><p><em>D'aw. I feel like the Track Team's little episode-ending music ought to be playing in this last scene. I'll just hum it! <em>*Doo-doo-doo-do, doo-doo-doo-do...*

_Yeah, it's not really the same, is it? Oh well. Anyway, that was fun. Savor the happiness while it lasts, Katara! 'Cause things are about to get pretty rough._


	27. Don't Fall Asleep

_All right! This chapter will be much less pointless and, uh… banter-ful than the last one. Not that the last chapter didn't have its purpose in the story; it needed to be there. It was sort of the calm before the storm. And anyway, one of my greatest delights/guilty pleasures as a writer is being able to write fun banter and character interactions. (Maybe I should be a playwright? Hm.)_

_Anyway, I'll freely admit that much of this part of the story has been my roundabout way of getting all the characters – ALL of them – to go to the North Pole in some way. And I'm far too obsessive to let any of the details slide. So, dear readers, if any of you are feeling impatient, just know again that these things need to be handled in a certain way for everything to turn out right at the end. And also, hey, we can't get there till the very last minute, right? Can't diffuse the bomb till the timer ticks down to 0:01. Heh heh heh…_

_Gosh, I'm so excited, guys! I'm really getting to the stuff that I've been looking forward to writing for a while! Hopefully I do it justice. :D_

Aang: "Hey, so… are our little conversations here in the Author's Notes gonna be a permanent thing now, or what?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well, at least till you come back into the actual story. I'm sad that you're gone. This is my coping mechanism."<br>Aang: "Oh, I see. You're not just holding me hostage here because you're lonely and you want someone to talk to?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well, that too."<br>Aang: "So… you _are _holding me hostage. Wait – then does that mean…? *_gasp_* YOU'RE THE FACE-STEALER!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>sigh<em>* "No, I'm not the Face-Stealer. I'm the author. This story isn't that meta. Have you been reading 'Bring Me All Your Elderly' again?"  
>Aang: *<em>shifty eyes<em>* "Maybe. But I don't know if I want to talk to you anymore, you evil Face-Stealer!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>double-sigh<em>* "OK, Aang. Whatever you say. Let's move on to the story, shall we…?"

* * *

><p><strong>DON'T FALL ASLEEP<strong>

_Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep._

Suki rocked herself, mouthing the silent mantra again and again, clutching the fitfully sleeping Tenzin to her chest and blinking her heavy eyelids resolutely.

She was sitting against the railing of the ship, out in the open air of the deck, the rough iciness of the metal pressed against her back, the dank air of the early morning ocean raising chilled goosebumps on her flesh, and on Tenzin's. They'd been sitting here for hours now, passing the night in restless anxiety, too afraid to go elsewhere. Tenzin shivered in her arms, mumbling feverishly in his sleep, his little fingers grasping at her clothes as if beseeching her to keep the terrors away. All was enveloped in darkness – deep, dangerous darkness – though the eastern horizon, after what seemed like an unfairly long night, was finally beginning to grow pale with the coming dawn.

The ship itself was completely silent, slumbering, its engines turned off, its great bulk resting motionless in the sea, standing in place, unsure where to go, frozen with confusion and fear. They'd stopped the ship as soon as the knowledge that Azula was on board had come to their horrified awareness. And without the steady thunder of the engines underlying everything, and without the constant breaking of the waves at the ship's bow, it all existed in a nightmarish bubble of empty, cold, helpless silence. The only sounds to be heard were the deceptively soothing murmurs of the ocean, always rolling and chopping languidly around them, and of the nervous soldiers that swarmed around the deck, watching, waiting, watching everything.

Drifting out here, in this isolated sphere of darkness and silence, with nothing but endless, hopeless ocean on the horizon – Suki found it far too easy to imagine that there was nothing else left in the world. All land, all hope for rescue, had disappeared. They alone were left: nothing but them, the ship, the infinite ocean, and Azula. They were stranded, trapped on a floating metal island of terror.

Zuko was pacing beside her, muttering to himself desperately, tearing his fingers through his hair, wracking his brain for an explanation, for a way out. But there was no way out. Suki's eyes followed him in a daze – back and forth, back and forth – concentrating on the movement of his feet. Forcing herself to concentrate, concentrate. Because if she didn't concentrate on _something_, the silence and the darkness would swallow her up. And if she succumbed to that, then anything might happen.

_Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep_.

"How could this happen?" Zuko growled as he paced, his eyes almost wild with frantic fear and frustration, his hands quivering.

She'd lost count of how many times he'd said that tonight. It was somewhere in the triple-digits, she was sure.

"_How could this happen_?" he roared again. "How could she be here? How could she have known? It was perfect! Everything – we thought of _everything_! This wasn't supposed to happen! We were one step ahead of her this time – we were supposed to get away! How could this happen?"

"There's no way out," Suki murmured, rocking and rocking.

"How did she do it?!" he thundered, grinding his teeth and pressing his fists into his exhausted eyes. "Why is this happening?"

"She's got us trapped," Suki breathed. "She's got us cornered. There's no way out."

"Zuko," whispered a dark figure, approaching them from elsewhere on the deck. It was General Ashiro. Suki didn't see where he'd come from, but in her sleep-deprived, terror-gripped mind, it seemed as if he'd simply materialized out of the darkness before them, like a phantom.

"Ashiro," Zuko replied.

"I'm so sorry," the young general said, his voice quivering with stress and remorse. "I've failed you. I don't know how she managed to – "

But Zuko shook his head violently, covering his face with his hands. "No, no – it's my fault. I must have overlooked something. I wasn't careful enough. Maybe she intercepted one of the messages I sent, or – somehow she found out we were getting on this ship. She must have snuck aboard way back in Fire Fountain City. Everything we did was completely pointless – she must have realized it was all just a decoy from the beginning. Maybe – maybe she…" He trailed off, overwhelmed with the hopeless frustration of it all.

"Everyone here is willing to protect you at any cost," Ashiro whispered gravely. "You and Suki and Tenzin."

"I want Momma," Tenzin mumbled, stirring from his sleep and burying his face in Suki's chest. Every inch of him trembled, and Suki clutched him tighter.

"It's gonna be okay, Tenzin," she whispered. "You'll be okay. We'll get through this."

Silent tears began rolling gently down his cheeks, and he shuddered violently from the fear and the cold night air.

"Zuko," Suki breathed urgently. "We can't just stay here. We have to go somewhere!"

Zuko clenched his fists fiercely, battling with himself, and in the heavy darkness his fingers glowed orange with tormented flames, casting a bloody light on every surface around him.

"I don't… I don't know what to do," he confessed at last, agonizingly, despising his own powerlessness. "I don't know what to do! We're not close enough to land to get away on one of the lifeboats – we don't have a way to send a message out anywhere – "

"But we can't stay here!" she repeated, with frantic desperation.

"We can't keep going," he went on, choking with despair. "We can't keep going to the North Pole. We can't bring her with us there – then everyone else will be in danger. That's what she'd want us to do. She'd want us to lead her to the others. Have us all in the same place, so she can pick us off one by one – "

"But if we're all together…" Suki tried feebly, but the words crumbled in her mouth. She already believed that it was useless, even before she spoke.

"No!" Zuko growled. "And if we try to go back home, we'll just be back to exactly where we started! And it'll take us hours just to get _anywhere_ from here, anyway. Who knows what she might do in all that time?"

"But _we can't just stay here!_" she cried yet again, uncontrollable panic boiling up in her at the very thought of it. "We can't just stay still! We can't! We have to get off this ship! _We have to get off!_ I won't be trapped here with her! I _won't_!"

"I want Momma," Tenzin whispered again, in pleading, earnest distress, as he quaked with helpless sobs. "I want to go home."

"I just – I don't know what to do," Zuko moaned again, leaning against the railing and sliding down to the deck beside her, covering his eyes with his hands in utter despair. "I should have known I couldn't outsmart her. I should have known this would happen. Now all of us are trapped out here, and it's my fault. I'm – I'm so sorry…"

"Oh, stop it!" Suki scowled harshly at him, far too weary and unnerved to be gentle. "Just shut up, Zuko! This isn't your fault! Stop feeling sorry for yourself – it's not gonna do us any good for you sit there beating yourself up!"

"But – if I'd just – "

"_Stop it! _Just stop, please! I can't handle this from you – not right now! You've got to keep yourself together!" Her voice had risen to a shrill, frenetic snarl by the end; she was barely managing to keep _herself_ together.

He sighed – pouring out every ounce of breath in his body – and gnawed at his lower lip restlessly. Everything within him was churning, shattering, tumbling, collapsing in defeat. Here he was, the Fire Lord. He wasn't weak. He wasn't helpless. He was powerful; he was strong; he'd suffered through unspeakable hardships in his life; he always survived. But now he only felt like a child. Disoriented, powerless, gripped with a terror beyond his control, completely at the mercy of someone else – someone who had no mercy to give him. Alone and afraid and trapped with nowhere to run.

"I wish," he breathed after a long silence, fighting against the overwhelming surge of despair, and finally echoing Tenzin's own simple sentiment: "I just want to go home."

Suki strangled slightly on a lump in her throat, blinking back burning tears of rage and regret. Every now and then, the idea that this was _it_ – this was where everything would end, out here on this horrible ship in the middle of nowhere, completely alone – had been surfacing in her mind, over and over all night, breaking through into her waking thoughts with malicious persuasiveness. She refused to accept the idea, but she couldn't ignore it either. It couldn't end here. This was so meaningless, so empty. There was no nobility in this, in meeting her end here in the thralls of terror. Alone and afraid, like a helpless child. With never a chance to see anyone else she loved ever again – never a chance to see her home again. If she'd known this was going to be it, she would have cherished her last glimpse of Kyoshi Island; she would have given it a proper farewell. If she'd known, she would have given Sokka a meaningful good-bye, and told him she loved him, and thanked him for being in her life...

No, no – that was wrong. She just wouldn't have left him at all. She would never have let him leave her at all. Right now, she'd have given anything just to see him one more time. But if this was really the end, then she'd never see him again. Her life would be over before she had a chance. And only later would Sokka find out what had happened, and then he'd torment himself too, because he hadn't given _her _a meaningful enough good-bye. Because they'd both taken it for granted that they'd see each other again before it was all over.

Suki wasn't given to weeping, not openly. But now the tears were coming. She couldn't hold them back. She was too tired.

"I wish I could see Sokka again," she breathed tremulously.

"I wish I could see Katara again," Zuko sighed, apparently having followed a similar train of thought to hers, though he didn't shed any tears. Not at the moment.

"Are we gonna die?" Tenzin whispered, his question addressed to either of them. Unlike the two of them, he wept without shame.

Neither of them replied. General Ashiro, who'd been standing near them for the past few minutes, turned once more to Zuko with a somber frown.

"Fire Lord," he said, rather gently. "I think we should – "

"_Up there! In the rigging!_" one of the soldiers shouted suddenly on the farther end of the deck, pointing frantically upward toward the elaborate ropes and masts.

Panic gripped the entire deck instantly. A slender, shadowy figure moved in the rigging, black against the stars, barely visible, like a fluttering bat in the night. Soldiers darted across the deck, gathering on the far side below her, craning their necks to look upward, straining to catch a glimpse of Azula against the black sky. Flames began flying from their fists blindly up toward the rigging, hoping to hit something. Ashiro immediately turned his back to Suki and Tenzin protectively, raising his fists, while Zuko leaped to his feet in wild urgency, scanning the darkness above them. But Suki remained sitting – unable to move for some reason: perhaps it was fear that paralyzed her, or perhaps exhaustion; perhaps she'd merely lost the will to keep fighting, after having fought Azula for years. She remained sitting against the railing, gripping Tenzin with all her might. In the crimson light of the soldiers' fire blasts, Suki glimpsed the wild-haired phantom herself, climbing, slinking, darting amongst the ladders and steel shafts and thick ropes, vanishing in and out of the light, maneuvering as nimbly and rapidly as a panther. In the strange early morning darkness, and in Suki's fatigued eyes, she looked unreal – nothing but a ghost, flickering in and out of existence. Tenzin tensed and trembled and clung desperately to her neck, while the deck rang with shouts and roars and hopeless blasts of fire.

No one could hit her. Suki rocked herself. They couldn't hit her. She wasn't real. She was just a nightmare – there and gone, maybe never there at all. Suki struggled to breathe.

"Someone hit her!" Zuko was screaming, and he sounded far away, even though he was standing right beside her. He began to race forward toward the soldiers across the deck, wrenching himself violently out of Ashiro's grasp as the general attempted to hold him back. Suki watched, almost in a trance, as Zuko's fists dissolved into swirling flames, and he launched his own brutal streams of fire up into the air, aimlessly, desperate to put an end to this madness. "Hit the rigging! Knock her down! Something!" He was out of his mind with the frenzy, bellowing whatever came to mind.

Somewhere high in the rigging, hovering amongst the stars above them, vicious white sparks of electricity burst suddenly to life, piercing the blackness of the sky.

In the white glow of the electricity, Suki suddenly saw Azula's face in eerily sharp detail, her eyes fixed on the soldiers below her with malevolent, chaotic intent.

"Look out!" Zuko shouted –

But all this happened in less time than it took to blink –

And a bolt of lightning erupted from the darkness, fracturing the night and striking the deck with blinding, ear-splitting violence. Soldiers were flung into the air – the ones standing too close to the strike convulsed and collapsed almost instantaneously – both Ashiro and Zuko were launched backwards on the brutal surge of power, crashing hard against the ship's railing – and Suki herself felt the electricity ripple through the entire ship, and it pulsated painfully through her every nerve, drawing forth a sharp scream from her bowels. Tenzin must have felt the shock too, because he lurched in her arms and also screamed in pain.

Before Suki could recover from the shockwave, she blinked hazily and saw Azula – only a silhouette dangling against the stars – gathering up energy for another strike. Her face glowed in the pale light again, and this time her wild eyes were staring directly down at Suki and Tenzin.

The air split with lightning once more, and Suki realized it was aimed for her and Tenzin, but she didn't see it coming. All she saw was its deathly white brilliance, illuminating everything around her, and a tall black shape stumbling into her line of sight, standing between her and the lightning. Something in her mind knew that the tall black shape was Zuko, but it all happened faster than she could think.

Zuko threw his arm out, catching the lightning bolt in his fingertips and absorbing it into himself. For a split second, his entire body seemed to glow, blazing with the fatal electricity. Then, after an instant of struggle, he launched it back at Azula with a ferocious roar. The bolt arched from his fingers, striking near the top of the mast with a resounding crack.

Again, the ship shuddered – reverberating silence followed, in which Suki imagined she heard a faint grunt from somewhere high above them – and she breathlessly prayed that Zuko had actually hit Azula – yearned to hear the liberating thud of her lifeless body falling to the deck.

But no thud ever came. Nothing but aggravating, ringing silence. Zuko wobbled slightly, shoulders heaving with the exertion; he was quivering from head to toe, and all his hair was standing on end from the flood of electricity.

Silence. Utter, complete silence.

The rigging was empty now – the phantom, bat-like shadow of Azula was gone. But she hadn't fallen. He hadn't hit her. She was just gone, fled into hiding somewhere else. Perhaps he'd injured her. At least it seemed he'd scared her away, for now. But she was still gone. Vanished again. And that meant that she'd be back. She wasn't going to leave them alone. Not that easily.

Zuko stumbled, lurching back against the railing and again collapsing to the deck beside Suki and Tenzin, panting and sweating and snarling in frustration. He slammed his fists against the deck.

"I didn't hit her," he gasped.

"No," Suki exhaled.

"I could have had her. I could have ended this, right there. If I'd had a better view – "

"Thank you," Suki said, as it suddenly registered in her hazy mind that Zuko had just saved their lives. "Thank you, Zuko."

He glanced at her, scowling bitterly at himself. "Don't thank me. I didn't hit her."

"But you saved us."

"For now," he sighed, rubbing his forehead and turning his eyes intently to the boy curled up in her arms. "Are you okay, Tenzin?"

The poor little Airbender was still quivering from the shock of the electricity, and he didn't seem able to speak at the moment. Wordlessly, he reached his hand out to Zuko, and Zuko took him from Suki, cradling him tightly in his own trembling arms.

"She's gone," Ashiro gasped beside them, clenching his own teeth in frustration. "She's gone again!"

"She's gone again," Zuko repeated, in a futile hush.

"I have to see – " the general breathed, flustered, pushing himself up to his feet dizzily and trying to gather his wits. "My soldiers – the ones she struck… They couldn't have survived that – "

"No," Zuko groaned, shoulders quaking. "No, they… I'm sorry, Ashiro. I'm so sorry."

"I need to – I have to see how many…" He trailed off, his voice breaking and wavering painfully. He looked almost lost. "How many we… How many of them made it… Make sure they're all right…"

He was already staggering off as he said this, wandering toward the site of Azula's first lightning strike, slowly and dizzily, like a sleepwalker. Suki could see that there were at least five soldiers lying motionless on the deck near where the bolt had hit. Others were crawling, pulling themselves shakily to their feet, trying to regroup.

"More dead," Zuko whispered. And now, at last, his eyes did begin to well up with bitter, angry tears. "Even more good people are dead now. Because of me. It's all because of me…"

"Zuko – " Suki murmured, though she had no idea what she intended to say.

"If this keeps up," he shuddered, fiercely scrubbing away a tear, "soon there won't be anyone left."

Suki couldn't speak.

"She's not going to stop," he went on miserably. "She won't leave us alone. It's hopeless."

"It's a nightmare," Suki breathed, smothering her face in her hands. She couldn't bear this anymore.

"How could this be happening?" he choked yet again, letting his head fall back against the railing, shutting his eyes tightly, as if to make the nightmare disappear. "This can't be real. This can't be happening."

"Zuko," Tenzin whispered faintly, hiccupping on terrified sobs. "Are we going to die?"

For the second time tonight, neither of them could answer his question. Zuko only held him tighter, squeezing the boy with all his might, forcing himself to breathe. Suki reached over and brushed her fingers tenderly through Tenzin's hair, hoping to give him some comfort – but her fingers trembled and she realized that she had uncontrollable tears streaming down her face. Tenzin leaned against Zuko's chest, his blue eyes gazing distantly at her, his own tears drying up on his cheeks. He was moving beyond crying now, into a realm of such total fear and confusion that tears were rendered useless.

After a few minutes of silence, Suki leaned her head back against the railing as well, staring up at the stars and listening to the cruelly tranquil murmuring of the ocean. It was so gentle and serene – she got the feeling it was mocking them somehow. Her head was throbbing, still reeling from the shock of the lightning, and everything about her felt drained. Thoroughly drained. She'd never been so tired in her entire life.

It wasn't until some time after that, when she felt Zuko's hand nudging her shoulder, that she realized she'd accidentally drifted off to sleep.

"Suki," he urged her. "Don't fall asleep. We can't fall asleep. If we fall asleep, she'll get us." He said it in a hush of almost childlike fear, as if he were speaking of a monster hiding under his bed.

She roused herself miserably, groaning and blinking and rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just… I'm so tired."

"I know," he sighed. "Me too."

"I want to go home," Tenzin mumbled yet again, shoving his fists fiercely into his sleepy eyes and nestling deeper into Zuko's arms.

The sky was lighter now than it had been, illuminated by the rising sun. The day had begun at last, after a long, sleepless night of very real, very dangerous nightmares. While normally the sight of the sun, of daylight, would have brought her hope, now it only filled Suki with despair. All they had to look forward to now was another day of terror… And after that, just another night full of who knew what horrors, who knew how many more deaths? Just another night without sleep. Because if they slept, Azula would get them.

* * *

><p><em>You didn't want me, Katara.<em>

"But I did," she murmured, rolling over in her sleep, burying her face in her arms, smothering her anguished words deep in the shuddering goosebumps of her flesh.

_You can't keep holding on like this. You can't follow me. You'll never return home. You'll never come back._

Katara twitched violently, moaning and clutching at her blanket, grimacing and grinding her teeth in torment.

_It's too late for me. You've got to let me go. It would be better now if you just forgot me._

"No," she mumbled, breathing hard.

_Let me go, Katara_.

"No!" she snarled, louder, waking herself up from her dream by the force of her own protestation.

The empty wind tore through her hair and blared its cold silence into her ears. They were in the sky, flying deep through darkness, passing in and out of the nighttime clouds that hung over the ocean. Everyone was asleep around her, ignorant of her pounding heart and her turbulent distress.

Quietly, Katara rolled onto her back, fighting to breathe. With one hand, she covered her face, shutting out the world; with her other hand, she dug into her pocket and found the betrothal necklace, grasping it desperately. A shudder of despair rippled through her body, and after a moment of struggle, she allowed herself to dissolve into defeated, helpless sobs.

It was the same dream. The same one she'd had before. She remembered it all more clearly this time: the South Pole, the Midnight Sun celebration, she and Aang lying in the snow… And then it was all ruined, destroyed in an instant, and she didn't know why, but it was her fault somehow. And he was telling her to forget him, warning her that she'd never return, slipping out of her grasp forever.

She remembered it all this time, and the savage, haunting feeling of déjà vu only confirmed that it was exactly the same dream she'd had before.

Why?

She'd gone to sleep earlier that night, unafraid, certain she could face whatever was waiting for her in her dreams. But that transient state of peace was gone, and all her former dread and anxiety washed over her again with tenfold ruthlessness.

_Why? _Why was this happening? Why couldn't it just leave her alone?

Katara pounded her fist furiously against the bottom of the saddle, stifling a scream of frustration.

She was on her way now. She was on the right path. They still had time. They were going to make it before the deadline. They weren't going to waste any more time – she was going straight there, as fast as she could. Everyone else was behind her, everyone supported her. She was going to save him. She'd felt certain of it only hours ago, just before she'd drifted off to sleep. She'd been daydreaming about it, longing to skip straight to the end of this journey just so that she could have him in her arms that very instant. Everyone else seemed certain of it, too. They had all spoken that evening as if it was a given, an obvious outcome. She would bring him back. It was inevitable; it was Destiny –

Why was he doing this to her? Why was he telling her not to save him? Why was he trying to make her forget him? Why was he trying to change her mind?

Didn't he want to be saved?

Yes – she knew he did. But he talked as if it were too late. He was worried about _her_. He thought that she didn't want to save him… He thought she'd be happier without him.

It was her fault that he thought that. She knew it was her fault. She'd rejected him – she'd destroyed him. And now he wanted her to forget him, because he thought that would make her happy.

No - _no. _She couldn't stand it.

"Aang," Katara sobbed, with redoubled anguish. His name burst from her throat reflexively, like a cough. She growled in bitter aggravation and shuddered with agonized tears.

Why was he doing this to her?

"Katara?" Sokka muttered blearily beside her in the saddle. He'd allowed Yonten to take over Appa's reins a couple of hours ago, hoping to finally get some sleep himself. His eyes squinted at her with groggy concern as he noticed her miserable weeping. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sokka," she hiccupped hastily, sniffling and quickly trying to compose herself. When she couldn't manage to compose herself, she just turned her back to him so that he wouldn't see.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

"It was just another bad dream. Don't worry about me."

"Oh." She could tell from the sound of his voice that he was barely conscious, and quickly plummeting back into unconsciousness. But even still, he wouldn't quite leave her alone. "Are y'sure?"

"Mm-hm," she said, even though every bone in her body was quaking, and her flesh burned with bitter grief.

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not right now. I'll tell you about it in the morning, okay? Just go back to sleep. I'm fine."

Sokka didn't say anything more after that, and she knew that he'd succumbed once again to sleep, whether he willed it or not. She was relieved, and hoped that he wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning. Because she wasn't planning on telling him about the dream. She couldn't. She couldn't tell any of them. They all believed in her now. They had all come so far already, to get her to the North Pole, and all of them were not only willing but _determined _to bring her the rest of the way. Because they believed she would save Aang – and they believed that she believed it.

But she didn't know what she believed now.

Every dream heightened her confusion, augmented her anxiety.

Suppose she _was _too late? Suppose Aang was right to tell her to turn back. Suppose he was already gone, forever, and this was all just meaningless. A hopeless joke. Suppose her deepest, most painful longing – to finally have him back, to have him for her own again – was already futile, never to be satisfied. And Aang was just gone, gone forever.

_Gone_.

She couldn't even fathom the concept. No more Aang, ever again. No, _no_ – to fully comprehend it would be to accept it, and it would destroy her. She couldn't. She just couldn't.

But was she supposed to be doing this? Was this right? Was it wrong?

Suppose she really _did _never come back? Was he telling the truth about that?

Suppose everyone she loved, all her dearest friends… Suppose all of them, believing that they were helping her, were really only accompanying her on a pointless journey to her own hollow, senseless death? Suppose she would go, and they would all wait for her to return… and wait, and wait. And she never would. And Tenzin, all alone, would ask every day, "Where has she gone? Why did she leave me? Why didn't she come back?"

Katara choked.

She couldn't bear this. Not again.

Aang – _Aang_ – his name strangled her heart.

No. He wasn't going to stop her. He wouldn't change her mind. She wouldn't allow it.

She wasn't going to let him go, no matter how he begged her to. She would _show _him that she wanted him, that he was good enough, that she wouldn't be happy unless she had him back, that she wouldn't – no, she _couldn't _let him go. He was hers. She was going to save him, one way or another, and no one, nothing would stop her. Not even himself.

But she couldn't bear any more of these dreams. She couldn't take it.

Katara set her jaw, coming to her firm decision. She'd just have to stay awake. She'd have to stay awake, from now until she brought him back. Once she'd saved him, then she could sleep. But until then… If Aang insisted on haunting her dreams, tormenting her, trying to make her change her mind, then she simply wouldn't _have_ any more dreams. That way, he couldn't change her mind or try to stop her. That was how it would have to be.

So Katara sat herself up, afraid that if she kept lying down, she might fall back asleep again on accident. She sat up, and rubbed her fingers fretfully across the surface of his betrothal necklace. And she leaned back against the saddle's side, gazing up at the stars and the moon as they emerged through the clouds. After a moment, she gathered up some strands of her hair and began weaving them into a braid, concentrating – _concentrating_. Because if she didn't concentrate, the silence and the darkness would swallow her up. Her blue eyes focused very hard on the dark strands that slipped between her fingers, and her lips moved wordlessly, silently mouthing a mantra to herself, again and again and again…

_Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep._


	28. The Storm, Part One: Visions

_OK, friends – long Author's Note! Sorry it took me a little longer than usual to get this one out. It wasn't one of those chapters that just flows from my brain in a single night; it came in spurts, and unfortunately I've been super busy with school recently, so yeah… I wish I had some way to update between updates, just to let you all know I'm still going. All I can do is keep reassuring you guys that this story WILL eventually get finished, no matter how long it takes. _:)

_Believe it or not, I had to split this chapter up from the one after it – AGAIN! I'm beginning to suspect that I'm far too ambitious about what I think I can fit into a single chapter. To be honest, part of my motivation for splitting the chapters up this time was so that I'd be able to update a little bit sooner (you're welcome! _:D_). But also, I'm discovering that many chapters which I think will be shorter are now growing longer, due to my trying not to rush things. And that's definitely the case with the next two chapters… So, if I keep going like this, I think this story might very well be about 50 chapters long by the time it's finished. Holy cow. _:0

_Now, I actually wanted to say something about the story in general real quick (even though it isn't relevant at all to this particular chapter), because oddly enough I got two comments almost back-to-back a couple of weeks ago about the same question. Namely this:_

_**Why would Koh steal Aang's face? Koh was never really straight-up **_**evil **_**in the show, just apathetic and creepy. So… WHY?! **_**:(**

_Heh, well… I'm not going to answer this question yet, for reasons. But I just wanted to assure everyone that I do actually _have _an answer. Indeed, I have thought about it quite a lot (probably more than I needed to, because I'm obsessive that way). And yes, the explanation will come into the story later. And, as always, dear readers, it is my deepest desire to keep all the characters – including Koh – as faithful to the way they were presented in the series as I possibly can. Plus, I'd hate myself as a writer if I ever caught myself feebly shrugging off a plot point with the pathetic explanation, "Just because?"_

_So, yeah, don't worry. Koh didn't steal Aang's face just for the evulz. That's not Koh's style. But all these mysteries will be cleared up in due time! _:)

_Also… _YAY 100+ REVIEWS! _*toots party horn and hands out cupcakes* _:D :D :D

_Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing this story! (Yes, most recent anonymous reviewer, I do read ALL my reviews, and I love them very much!) It's so inspiring just to know that people are reading it (and enjoying it!) and also giving it enough thought to question things like Koh's motivation for stealing Aang's face. I really appreciate that you guys are considering these details and making sure I stay on track, and I sincerely hope that I satisfy everyone's expectations as the story goes on. Please keep it up, and I'll do my best to keep up my end too! _:)

Rain&Roses: "Hey Aang! I think you might like this chapter!" :D  
>Aang: "Really? Do I get to show up in Katara's dreams again and say mysterious sad things?"<br>Rain&Roses: "Uh-h-h-h… Well, no. No, you don't, 'cause Katara's sort of boycotting sleep right now. But I think you might like it anyway!"  
>Aang: "Aw, phooey! But I miss Katara." :'(<br>Rain&Roses: "I know, I know. She misses you too. And stop with the sad puppy-dog face! I told you not to do that at me. It makes my heart hurt."  
>Aang: "Well… there is <em>one <em>thing that might cheer me up…" ^_^  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>sigh<em>* "OK, fine. You can have another custard tart. Fatty."  
>Aang: "Yay! <em>Om nom nom nom…<em>!"

* * *

><p><strong>THE STORM, PART ONE:<br>Visions**

Zuko stood at the stern and clenched the railing of the ship, staring hard at the dusky horizon. Light of an uncanny grayish-ochre color highlighted the restless, chopping angles of the ocean's surface, as far as his eyes could see. The sun was abandoning them again: another sleepless night would soon be upon them. But already the sky was growing prematurely dark, swirling with inky clouds that were rapidly emerging from the southwest, reaching out greedy tendrils toward the drifting ship. Bursts of lightning intermittently illuminated the thick thunderheads, tracing them out in sharp, transitory detail.

His knuckles paled with the ferocity with which he grasped the metal railing.

_Not now_. His thoughts churned feverishly. _Not a storm. Not now._

It wasn't fair. Being trapped on a ship with Azula was difficult enough, without any other complications to make things worse. Just since this morning, she'd managed to slit three more throats, to set fire to one of the lifeboats (luckily _only _one; they managed to chase her away before she could sabotage more), and to throw someone overboard. She'd also consistently evaded capture – hardly a surprise – despite the fact that there were at least four dozen soldiers scouring the ship for her every minute of the day.

It wasn't fair that they'd have to deal with a storm on top of all that. Right now, the only place on the ship where they were even remotely safe was up on the deck, out in the open, where she couldn't sneak up on them as easily. But if the storm overtook them, they'd have no other choice but to go below. Down where it was cramped and claustrophobic. Down where she was undoubtedly hiding at this very moment.

It wasn't fair. Everything was against them now. Somehow, it seemed that nature itself was in a conspiracy with Azula, doing all in its power to drive them straight into her hands.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Zuko turned. Ashiro was approaching him, looking just as ragged and defeated as Zuko felt.

"Ashiro," Zuko said, his voice scraping bleakly out of his throat. "We need to get away from that storm. If we get caught in it…"

He trailed off, too tired to finish his thought. But Ashiro's face flashed with grave understanding, and he tilted his head slightly, signifying that he knew precisely what Zuko was thinking. If they got caught in the storm, then their only advantage, their only buffer against Azula – the open space of the deck – would be compromised. It would be like being trapped in a viper's den.

"I'll have the engines started," Ashiro said. "We've already been going nowhere for far too long as it is."

Zuko nodded wearily, rubbing his aching eyes. "Tell the helmsman to take us north, as fast as we can."

The young general blinked at him for a moment, and Zuko saw Ashiro's eyes swarm with sudden despair.

"Fire Lord Zuko," he murmured, "heading north will only take us further out to sea. Are you sure we shouldn't try to head east and make for the Earth Kingdom?"

But Zuko shook his head. "We're too far. We're too far from _anywhere_ – it would take us at least two or three days to get to the Earth Kingdom from here, and we wouldn't be able to outrun the storm. All we can do is try to get out of its path... So, north. Please, Ashiro."

Ashiro nodded solemnly, and turned to carry out Zuko's orders.

* * *

><p>Suki was wandering the deck near the bow, letting Tenzin dangle off her hand, trying to keep herself awake, trying to keep herself from giving in to total hopelessness, from losing her mind in the awful, unbearable, motionless silence. They'd only lost one night of sleep so far, and already she felt ready to fall apart. How many more nights would they have to spend out here, going nowhere, too afraid to sleep, trapped on this miserable ship with Azula? How many long hours would they have to spend, watching other people die one by one, going insane with anticipation, before it was all over? How long would this nightmare have to go on before the inevitable end finally overtook them?<p>

Days? _Weeks_?

Just the thought of it was maddening enough to make Suki want to fling herself overboard and have it over with now, and not give Azula the pleasure of tormenting her any longer. But she couldn't do that – she couldn't let herself succumb to that kind of despair. There had to be a way out. There _had _to be. She just couldn't see what it was.

If only she could get some sleep, she might actually be able to _think _clearly. But she couldn't. It was too risky to sleep.

Suki wondered if Azula ever slept.

"Aunt Suki," Tenzin murmured drowsily, rubbing his eye. "When are we going home?"

"I don't know, Tenzin," she replied in a daze, unable to bring herself to utter the dreadful word "never," though that was the real answer that resounded brutally in her mind.

"Do you think Momma and Uncle Sokka are somewhere around here?" he asked hopefully. Like her, he was also only half-conscious, and spoke like he was wandering in a dream. "Maybe we'll find them, and Appa can save us. D'you think, maybe? It could… They might be just around the corner. Appa would carry us, right?"

"I don't know," she sighed again, massaging her forehead. "Yeah, I guess, maybe."

Once again, she couldn't bring herself to speak the real thoughts floating through her mind: that Sokka and Katara were probably nowhere even _close _to them; that there was no Appa coming to carry them away; that they were on their own, and Sokka and Katara would never know what had happened to them until it was too late. Suki thought all these things, but of course she couldn't say any of that to Tenzin. He needed to believe that maybe, somehow, Appa _was _close by. That his Momma would be coming soon to carry him away to safety. That this was all merely an unpleasant adventure-gone-wrong, and eventually he'd be home again and everything would go back to normal. He was too young – far too young to even suspect that there was no hope in sight, that there was a very strong possibility he'd never see home, or his mother, ever again.

He was so young – _so _young. It broke Suki's heart. It wasn't fair.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the endless, onerous monotony was finally shattered. There was a deep rumble, and the deck vibrated beneath their feet, and the ship burst to life with the thunderous hum of the engines. They were moving again.

Suki nearly exploded from sheer relief. Sound! Movement! Something to finally break their terrible stasis! _Finally!_ Her entire soul felt rapturously uplifted the instant that the oppressive silence was broken by the glorious noise of the engines. Just knowing that they were no longer drifting aimlessly, that they had a _destination_ now (no matter what it was), filled her with a strange gush of hopeful energy.

"We're moving!" Tenzin cried in surprise. "Where are we going, Aunt Suki? Are we going to the North Pole now?"

Suki hesitated. Where _were _they going?

Where was there to go?

Surely not to the North Pole – not at this point. But where then? Back to the Fire Nation, to end up exactly in the same place they started? Or to the Earth Kingdom?

"I, uh," Suki stammered, frowning slightly, "I have no idea, Tenzin."

The more she wondered about it, the more Suki's short-lived burst of relief quickly transformed into a whole new kind of anxiety. Now they were _moving_: the status quo had been unsettled, the stalemate disrupted. What would happen now?

As soon as Azula realized they were no longer headed for the North Pole – as soon as she saw that they weren't going to lead her to Sokka and Katara and the others, nor were they going to waste any more time letting her terrorize them out here in the middle of nowhere – surely _Azula _would waste no more time in finishing them all off? Surely she wouldn't just let them _go home_, not when she had them trapped here in such a perfectly vulnerable position.

Suki's mind whirred with hectic, paranoid vigor, fueled by her recent burst of energy – whirred like the ship's rumbling engines.

The way things were now, she thought, Azula had the upper-hand. She had them cornered, on the defensive, with nowhere to run. But if she allowed them to get near land, or even near another ship, they'd be able to escape without her following them. They could slip away on the lifeboats and leave _her _stranded on this ship. All they needed was somewhere to flee to, and they'd have the upper-hand again.

Azula would anticipate that. Surely she'd have something drastic in mind to prevent herself from getting in that situation. And whatever it was, she'd do it before they were anywhere close to land.

No doubt that was why she'd gone after the lifeboats earlier today. But even _if _she managed to sabotage the lifeboats, that would hardly guarantee that they wouldn't get away. Azula still wouldn't want them anywhere close to safety. Her current power over them would come unraveled. No – she would try to stop them before they even caught sight of land.

She might even destroy the ship itself. Suki knew from experience that Azula had the means to do so, if she pleased.

Of course, she wouldn't _want _to do it, except as a last resort. Blowing up the ship would be just as disastrous to Azula as it would be to the rest of them.

But, if there was no other choice… Azula _was _insane enough to go through with it. She'd be perfectly willing to take herself down, as long as she dragged all of them along with her. And the need to prevent them from escaping might make her desperate enough.

If not… it was more likely she'd just accelerate her attacks, trying to take as many of them out as possible before they reached land. Or she might try to commandeer the ship.

No matter what, they were moving now. And that meant Azula would be moving too, and soon.

Scooping Tenzin up into her arms, Suki intended to race off to find Zuko and discover what was going on, whether or not he had an actual plan, whether or not he'd thought about any of these things that she was thing about, or if he was merely desperate to _go _somewhere, regardless of what happened. But when she turned, Zuko was already there, approaching them with a grim look in his eyes.

"Zuko!" she cried. "We're moving!"

"That's correct," he answered flatly, giving her a tired look.

"I mean," Suki frowned, shaking her head with a scowl. "But – you told them to move? What's going on? Where are we going?"

"We're heading north," he declared simply, almost defensively: cautioning her not to argue about it.

"North?" she asked, furrowing her brow at him. "As in…?"

"The same direction we were going before," he gave her a curt nod. "Yep."

She gaped at him, heart pounding inexplicably. Was he okay? Had he just given up? Was he so desperate to see his original plan through to the end, or to see Katara again – or, possibly, to try to convince her to give up her crazy attempt at rescuing Aang – that he just didn't care anymore whether or not Azula tagged along with them? Had the silence and the sleeplessness and the paranoia addled his brain? She could hardly blame him if it had, but still.

"Um, Zuko," she faltered, with grave concern. "Wouldn't going north just take us farther from land? We're still at least a good week's journey from the North Pole! If we're going to go anywhere, wouldn't it make more sense to head for the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom?"

He just shook his head abruptly. "No. We're going north."

"But – _why_?" she demanded, frowning fiercely.

This time, instead of answering her verbally, he merely lifted his arm and pointed back toward the stormy southwestern sky behind them. As if on cue, a sharp crack of thunder reverberated across the water, and the dark clouds blazed with lightning.

Suki blinked at the storm. She hadn't noticed it until then.

"Oh," she muttered. "That."

"Yeah," he scowled. "That."

A storm. They were being chased by a storm now. They were trapped on a boat with a murderous madwoman, and now they were being chased by a storm. Suki felt almost furious, suddenly – her fury burned with astonishing intensity. She was still pulsing with the rush of energy brought on by the newly awakened engines – an unnatural energy that was undoubtedly a side effect of her lack of sleep – and that energy channeled itself into fierce resentment. Though, she wasn't entirely sure _what _it was that she was so angry at. At the storm itself, she supposed, even though she knew it hardly made sense to hold a grudge against the weather.

Still – it wasn't fair! Why would the storm choose _now _to come after them? It felt personal, somehow. Like the weather had some vendetta against them.

"Well, that's… that's just _perfect_, isn't it?" she growled.

"Uh-huh," Zuko groaned listlessly, clearly experiencing none of the frenetic energy coursing through Suki at the moment.

"Can we outrun it?" she asked him hastily. "Is the ship fast enough?"

"No," he sighed, "but we might be able to get out of its way. Either way, though, our already precarious situation just got a little… uh, precariouser. Because, apparently, the Universe hates us."

Suki glanced at him, and she almost smirked, though she was far too frazzled and unhappy to actually do it. "You sound like Sokka," she commented.

Zuko scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm sure wherever Sokka is right now, he's got nothing to complain about compared to us."

* * *

><p>"Really?!" Sokka griped, grasping Appa's reins tighter. "A storm? <em>Right now<em>? Does the Universe hate us or something?"

Appa griped as well, even more loudly and miserably than Sokka.

The icy rain – which hadn't been there at all only a few seconds before – was already pelting them viciously, and the ominous gray darkness of the storm quickly swallowed up the day's remaining sunlight. Below them, looming dangerously close, the deep black depths of the ocean were simmering and seething with bitter violence.

Everyone in the saddle held on for dear life, as the storm gathered momentum and the wind grew rapidly fiercer and more determined to pick them all up and toss them into the sea. Toph, Little Ursa, and Momo huddled close together under a blanket, clinging to one another just as much as to the saddle. The elder Ursa – still unfortunately quite new to the experience of flying, and not much enjoying it at the moment – was crouched low in the back of the saddle, teeth clenched, arms trembling. And Yonten, regardless of his previous anger at her, now held onto his adoptive aunt protectively, trying to squint through the wall of sudden rain battering his face.

Meanwhile, Katara was crouched by Iroh's side, with the old man nestled down flat in the saddle and wincing at each of Appa's sudden lurches. Only a few minutes before, when everything had been deceptively calm, Uncle had complained that some of his lingering pains were beginning to trouble him again. But Katara hadn't gotten a chance to finish checking him and making sure he wasn't having a serious relapse, before they'd blundered right into the hurricane. She was now busily attempting to finish healing him, despite the storm, but it made her progress slow and difficult.

"Are you okay, Uncle?" she asked, shouting at him over the noise of the tempest.

He grimaced, as Appa gave an especially rough pitch. "Well, I don't think I'm going to die yet!" was his grim reply, after a moment of consideration.

"Let's not talk about dying, please!" Toph growled. She already had enough trouble just being separated from the ground. Being away from the ground – _far _away from it – in the middle of a storm only made matters a hundred times worse.

"Katara!" Sokka bellowed, shivering in the pounding rain. "Do you think you could help us out a bit?"

"What?" she shouted back at him.

"Could you make us a little safety bubble or something?" he roared. "We'd all really appreciate it!"

"_I'm kinda busy!_" she yelled impatiently.

"Hey, Uncle's not gonna get any better if we all die in the storm!" Sokka argued, also aggravated.

"Again," Toph roared fiercely, "can we NOT talk about dying! _Please!_"

"Katara, seriously, a water shield would be really, really helpful right now!" Sokka went on, giving his sister a severe look over his shoulder. "I mean, _I _would do it, but you know…"

Katara growled in frustration, slipping her healing water hastily back into its usual pouch at her waist, and rising to her feet, attempting to position herself as sturdily as she could in the swaying saddle in order to make a stable shield for them. Rapidly sweeping her arms above her head in a broad, circular movement, she gathered up the rain that was pummeling them, manipulating it into a solid sphere of water. Then she stretched her arms straight out, palms up, jaw set in firm concentration, and adjusted the water sphere, widening it out so that it encompassed everyone – bison and all – enclosing them all in a quiet, relatively dry bubble.

"Sorry, Uncle," she muttered irritably. "You're just gonna have to wait a little while."

"It's fine!" he said quickly. "I'd prefer all of us to get through the storm first."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have Katara's water shield to keep out the wind and the rain. But although the sphere did solidify enough to shut out the storm, for the most part, it refused to be completely stable for some reason. Katara could feel it, in her arms, in the fibers of her muscles – it wasn't strong at all. She guessed that no one else could tell the difference, but she definitely could: the entire shield was shaky, ready to fall apart at any moment, despite all her efforts to fortify it and hold it steady. She focused all her energy on the task of waterbending, waving her arms hastily, fighting to maintain it, struggling to make it stronger. But she was having a strangely difficult time, and her teeth clenched with the exertion, and she felt her limbs shuddering as if they were made out of brittle, rotten wood.

What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so drained? She never felt this weak – _never_. Was she getting sick or something? Why was her balance so off today?

Oh – of course. She hadn't slept half the night before, and had barely slept the few days before that. Well, that certainly didn't help matters at all, did it?

_It just figures_, she thought sourly. Of all the days they had to run into a storm, it would be today, when she was weak from sleep deprivation and stress. And now, of course, Uncle looked like he was regressing – perhaps his injuries were opening up again, or maybe something else was wrong with him that she'd missed before, or he might have gotten an infection somehow without her knowing… She wasn't sure what was wrong with him. But whatever the case, it was definitely the worst possible time for him to have a relapse.

But she couldn't help him now, no matter how urgent it was. Because they all needed their stupid safety bubble, to keep out the stupid storm.

_Why am I stuck being the only Waterbender in this group? Why do _I _have to do everything?_

Almost immediately, her thoughts began to wander to Aang, as they always seemed to do, like a stream following the inevitable guidance of gravity. Everything came back to Aang. If Aang was there with her now, _he _could have made the water shield to protect them, and then she would have been free to take care of Iroh. Or, if nothing else, he could have helped hold up the shield along with her, made sure it was strong enough to get them through… But no. She had to do everything, on her own. It would have been so much easier, if only Aang was with her. But he wasn't.

Katara faltered – the sphere of water rippled and wavered and fell apart, and everyone was instantly pounded by a merciless gush of rain and wind.

"Katara!" they all shouted simultaneously.

"_Sorry!" _she screamed, grinding her teeth and hastily struggling to sweep up a new shield around them.

"Could you keep it up, please, if it's not too much trouble?" Sokka bellowed at her, with a biting attitude that only made Katara even more enraged. "The thing about a safety bubble is that it needs to _keep existing!_"

"Would you leave me alone?" she snarled at him. "I'm doing my best, all right? I'm not the one who flew us straight into a hurricane!"

"Guys, I really don't think this is a good time to have a fight," Toph remarked.

"Yes, I think there are more important things to focus on at the moment!" Yonten agreed fervently, still clutching the elder Ursa in his arms as he peered nervously over the side of the saddle. "Such as – why is the ocean getting closer to us?!"

"Oh no," Sokka cried.

"What? What is it?" everyone yelled at him at once.

"Appa's going down!" he screamed, pulling up hard on the reins. "No, no, no, Appa! Don't do this! Come on – don't give up now!"

Appa groaned with fatigue and fright, wavering perilously as he flew, so that all the passengers in his saddle slipped and swayed. Katara fought to keep her balance, swinging her arms with frantic energy to keep up the sphere of protective water around them. The ocean, indeed, was far too close for comfort, and growing steadily nearer. All of them clung to the saddle, screaming, and felt their hearts jump into their throats as Appa began to plummet more steeply.

Suddenly, the bison's feet grazed the surface of the thrashing ocean, jolting everyone violently. Katara slipped and fell, and the water shield went down with her once again. She nearly tumbled out of the saddle entirely, but fortunately the elder Ursa caught her by the arm and pulled her back in. With their safety bubble gone, the storm battered them with increased maliciousness; and Appa skimmed along the sea's rough surface, grunting and wobbling precariously. Sokka pulled back on the reins with all his might, practically standing on the bison's head in the effort. Reluctantly, Appa at last pushed himself a little higher into the air, away from the ocean – but he groaned again, miserably. He was completely exhausted.

"This is bad!" Sokka shouted.

"_You think so?_" Toph shrieked, furious with terror.

"I knew this was a bad idea! I _knew _it!" Sokka roared, overcome with desperate frustration and fear. "Appa's not used to carrying this many people!"

"I thought you said he'd be okay!" Katara thundered back at him, struggling to get her footing again and make another water shield for them as quickly as she could.

"Yeah, well, maybe I wasn't a hundred percent sure, okay!" he growled back at her. "I wasn't really counting on being pummeled by a hurricane!"

"It's my fault!" the elder Ursa cried, with bitter regret. "It's because of me – he was fine until I joined the group! I shouldn't have come at all – "

"It's nobody's fault!" Katara argued sternly, giving the older woman a serious look. "And it won't do any good to blame ourselves, or anyone else! We're gonna get through this – _all _of us, together!"

Suddenly, without warning, Katara's sleep-deprived head began to spin, and she swayed, and her water shield wavered dangerously. Every single one of her muscles quivered with fatigue. She blinked frantically, shaking her head, fighting to maintain her balance.

_Not now_, she ordered herself. _Don't fall apart now. Keep yourself together._

"Sokka, we need to find somewhere to land!" Toph yelled.

"Yeah, well, Toph, if you see any place that looks comfy, you let me know!" Sokka snarled.

"That's not funny!"

"I wasn't _trying _to be funny!"

"We should head for the eye of the storm!" Uncle shouted at Sokka. "If we get somewhere calm, then at least maybe Appa can land safely in the water."

"Maybe we can lighten the load somehow?" Yonten suggested desperately. "Is there anything we can throw out?"

Sokka clenched his teeth, grimacing. "I don't know… Throw Momo overboard!"

"NO!" Little Ursa protested, clutching the old lemur close to her protectively.

"Oh, calm _down_!" Toph scowled irritably. "No one's gonna throw Momo overboard."

Yonten was already making himself busy, looking through the packs of supplies tied to the saddle. The elder Ursa cautiously crawled over to help him.

"Katara!" Yonten shouted. "Can we let go of these supplies? It may help with the weight… Katara?"

Katara appeared to have not even heard him, although he was right beside her and shouting at the top of his lungs. She was still swaying her arms, keeping up the water shield, but she moved mechanically, as if she were in a trance. Her eyes stared straight forward, out into the storm, hypnotized by something in the distance – her gaze was wide, bewildered and deeply unsettled.

"Katara!" Yonten bellowed again, louder, rising to his feet beside her and staring at her with concern.

"Are you all right, Katara?" Iroh shouted from down at her feet.

"Do you see something?" the elder Ursa asked her anxiously.

Katara didn't reply, to any of them. She only blinked, and shook her head fiercely, trying to throw off the strange vision in her eyes. She could have sworn she saw something, flying through the storm beside them. But it couldn't be! That was impossible! What could possibly be _flying _out in the storm?

Yet – no, there it was again! She was sure she saw it! A person – it was a _person_.

Was it? Yes! A person flying with a glider, darting erratically through the wind and rain, keeping pace with Appa at a close distance. An Airbender. An _Airbender._

No – an Airbender? No – _no! _There was no way! She squinted, struggling to see more clearly, but the rain obscured her sight, and everything looked hazy and blurry through the wall of her water shield.

Her heart thudded frantically.

Aang. It was Aang.

She knew it was him. She didn't even have to see him clearly. She just knew – she knew it with a certainty that chilled the marrow in her bones.

Her head pulsed in dizzy confusion.

_I'm seeing things…_ Katara's thoughts tumbled over themselves. _No – he's not really there. He can't be. I'm seeing things._

"Katara!" she heard Yonten yelling at her anxiously. "What's wrong? What do you see?"

Katara was barely breathing. She shook her head again, more fiercely, as an icy shudder passed through her body. When she looked out again, the unnerving vision was gone. There was no one there.

"Nothing," she muttered. "I don't see anything. Sorry – what were you asking me?"

"Are you all right?" he asked her, his eyes flickering with worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she snapped, rather defensively. "What did you want?"

Yonten hesitated, but, sensing her defensiveness, he didn't push the issue. "I was wondering how much of the supplies we can afford to lose? To lighten the load a bit?"

She blinked fiercely yet again, turning her gaze inward for a moment, and then shook her head once more – too flustered to give his question much thought. "All of it," she finally blurted. "Just throw it all away. We'll worry about getting more supplies once we're out of the storm."

"Just not my Space Sword!" Sokka added urgently.

Needing no further permission, the elder Ursa immediately began to throw their packs over the edge of the saddle. The supplies tumbled through the air, passing through Katara's water shield with a meek splash and vanishing into the choppy waves below. Toph and Little Ursa quickly began to help with throwing things overboard.

"_Or my seal jerky!_" Sokka shouted after a moment.

"Oh… I think that was in the bag I just threw out," Little Ursa said sheepishly. "Sorry!"

Sokka sighed mournfully. "Oh, well. That's all right. It's not important."

"Katara," Yonten said, still studying her carefully, "is there any way I can help you?"

"No, I'm fine," was her hasty, sharp reply. But even as she spoke, she wobbled dizzily, and a shuddering ripple passed throughout her water shield, from top to bottom.

The Airbender didn't say anything else, but he watched her for a moment, furrowing his brow. Then, with a solemn, decisive frown, he stepped across the saddle up near Appa's head, shifting his feet into the firmest stance he could manage. And, inhaling deeply, he threw his arms forward. A gust of air burst out of him, nearly blowing Sokka over for a moment. The air spiraled forward, past Appa's head, puncturing through Katara's bubble of water and tossing all the rainwater away from them in every direction. Everyone's hair and clothes blew wildly around in the wind, but otherwise his air shield worked nearly as well as Katara's water shield.

"I can keep this up for a few minutes," he shouted to Katara over the noise of the wind. "Just rest for a while. We'll take turns, all right?"

Katara lowered her weary arms, and for a brief instant, a grateful smile passed across her features. Then she slumped down into the saddle and sighed with exhaustion, massaging her aching eyelids. A headache was beginning to take shape in the crevices of her skull, and she still felt dizzy and unbalanced. But at least she'd been given a small respite.

"Well, whatever works!" Sokka shrugged. "I'm gonna try to head for the eye of the storm. You guys keep dumping out whatever you can. Hopefully Appa will make it a little bit farther."

Blinking heavily, Katara glanced at Iroh. "How are you doing, Uncle? I can try to get back to healing you now, if you want. At least until Yonten's air shield wears out."

But he just shook his head, scrutinizing her with an odd look, as if he understood something about her that she didn't herself.

"No," he said. "I'll be fine for now. Just take a rest. You look like you need one."

She stared at him a moment, her mind meandering away from her, and then she yawned, rubbing her entire face with defiant vigor. Appa swayed and moaned, sounding just as exhausted as she was, and he continued intermittently dipping toward the ocean and rising up again with feeble determination as they flew. Meanwhile, Katara let her eyes roam back out into the falling rain beyond the air shield. Now and then she caught more glimpses again of the same disconcertingly familiar figure, gliding through the storm beside them. But she would blink, and he'd flicker in and out of existence. At last she merely closed her eyes, so that they couldn't play any more such cruel tricks on her.

_There's nothing there_, she told herself firmly. _You're okay. You're just tired. You've got to keep yourself together._

* * *

><p>Zuko solemnly watched the sky. The storm had nearly overtaken the ship within the next hour or so, despite their efforts to dodge it. Night had fallen officially by now, and in the impenetrable darkness, the spurts of lightning in the distance took on a new level of sinister menace. The wind was colder now, and more agitated than before. But the rain had yet to start falling, and so Zuko, Suki and Tenzin still sat out on the deck, against the railing of the bow – refusing to abandon the relative safety of the open space until they had no other choice.<p>

Zuko yawned broadly. Suki had fallen asleep, her previous wild energy having quickly burned itself out. Tenzin was leaning against her, fidgeting now, boiling with his own wild energy.

"Tenzin," Zuko murmured, holding his hand out to the restless little boy. "Come sit next to me for a while." He didn't want Tenzin to wake up Suki; she hadn't handled the loss of sleep well, and he wanted her to be able to rest, at least for a little while. He could stay awake while she slept. He'd just make sure to wake her up if he felt himself drifting off.

Tenzin scooted over to Zuko and slouched against the railing beside him. Unlike both of the adults, he was now wide awake, brimming with bottled-up energy. Zuko wasn't sure where the boy's sudden burst of restlessness had come from – he wondered if perhaps it was a side effect of the constant fear that they'd been living in for nearly two days now. Perhaps Tenzin had slipped over some threshold, finally resorting to hyperactive distraction as a defense mechanism against the fear.

Or perhaps it was simply the fact that Tenzin was _five_, and thus naturally bursting with energy anyway.

Perhaps it was a combination of both, along with the strangeness of the situation in general. The little Airbender had managed to get quite a bit more sleep in the past couple of days than any of the adults on the ship, despite the terrors of their situation – partially because it was all out of his control, and he only barely understood what was going on, and partially because no one had made any effort to keep him from sleeping. He was young: he needed sleep much more than they did. And as long as they were awake to protect him, there was no reason he shouldn't be able to rest when he needed it.

But he didn't look like he was going to rest now. Just when Zuko would have really appreciated it.

Tenzin sat beside Zuko, crunching his legs up to his chest, then stretching them out straight, then crossing them over one another. He scratched his head and rubbed his nose and pulled his hands anxiously up inside of his sleeves, clicking his tongue and letting his eyes wander in all directions.

Zuko yawned again.

"Can we go for a walk, Zuko?"

"No, Tenzin. Not right now."

"Can I walk around by myself?"

"_No_," Zuko said sternly, giving him a fierce look. "You're not going _anywhere_ by yourself. You should know better than that. It's too dangerous. Just sit still, all right? We'll walk around later."

Tenzin just sighed impatiently, unleashing a slow, irritable gust of wind from his lungs.

Zuko glanced up at the sky. The storm hovered over the sea, almost invisible in the darkness of night, blurring the horizon away into impenetrable blackness. Now and then sharp cracks of lightning split the sky, shedding light on both the sea and the clouds, revealing how dangerously near the storm really was. The air was heavy, and smelled of impending rain. Zuko might have been imagining it, but it looked as if the storm were hanging right over the stern of the ship itself, stalking them.

He could only hope it was farther away than it looked.

"When are we getting to the North Pole?" Tenzin asked.

"I don't think we're gonna go to the North Pole after all," Zuko replied wearily. "It's too far away, and we don't want to bring Azula there with us."

"Why can't someone just _catch _Azula?" Tenzin demanded. "I mean, how can it be so hard to find her on the boat? She can't go anywhere else!"

Zuko sighed. "She's too smart to get caught."

"Would we go to the North Pole if someone caught her?"

"I don't know, Tenzin. Yeah, probably, I guess."

"Well, where are we going now?"

Zuko just sighed again, wishing Tenzin would give him a few moments of silence. "I don't know, Tenzin," he said again. "Just somewhere out of the way of that big storm. We don't want to get stuck in it."

"What'll happen if we do?"

"It'll be bad. Really bad."

"Why? What'll happen?"

"_Tenzin_ – I don't know what might happen. But we don't want to find out, so we're trying to get away from it. We'll figure out where we're actually going once we're safe from the storm."

"Maybe momma's flying in the storm right now," Tenzin slumped lower, sliding down the rail until he was nearly flat on his back, lifting the hem of his shirt up and down restlessly. "Maybe she'll come, with Uncle Sokka and Appa, and take us to the North Pole with them."

"Your mom's not in the storm, Tenzin. She's probably pretty far away from here."

"Do you think she's in the North Pole already?"

Zuko only sighed a third time. "I don't know. Maybe. I'm sure she's close, at least. It takes a while to get there, though."

"But she left a really long time ago," the boy argued, pulling his three favorite marbles out of his pockets and twirling them absent-mindedly on a little spiral of air. "She's been gone for a long time. I bet she's already there. She has to be, unless she went really slow, and I don't think she'd go very slow, because she said she'd come home by the Solstice. And I think it's almost the Solstice now. Is it the Solstice yet, Zuko?"

"No."

"Is it tomorrow?"

"No, it's not for another week and a half, I think."

"Hmph." Tenzin frowned. "Well, anyway, I bet she's there. Maybe she's already brought daddy back and everything!"

Zuko grimaced slightly, and didn't reply. It wasn't so much the idea that Katara had already brought Aang back that made him wince – Zuko doubted that she'd gotten that far yet. It was more that… Well, Zuko still couldn't help but flinch every time he heard Tenzin call Aang "daddy." It was just so… _odd_, to hear the word come out of the boy's mouth, especially in reference to Aang. After all, Tenzin still had yet to even _meet _Aang. Only a month ago, Tenzin hadn't even known that he was related to Aang at all, much less that Aang was his father. Yet he'd taken to using the word so quickly, without question, just throwing it around unwarranted. _Carelessly_.

What had Aang done to deserve that title? Other than simply contributing to Tenzin's being brought into the world in the first place. But was that really enough? Did he really deserve it, after being entirely absent from Tenzin's life?

Zuko frowned at himself, shaking his head, perplexed by his own bitter chain of thoughts. Why was he letting such a small thing get to him this way? Why _shouldn't_ Tenzin call Aang "daddy"? – Aang was his dad, after all. So why did it make Zuko feel so… almost… _angry_ at Aang about it, every time the word slipped out of Tenzin's mouth? As if it were some privilege that Aang hadn't earned. But Aang could hardly help the fact that he hadn't been in Tenzin's life thus far. How could he have possibly earned anything? How could Zuko hold that against him?

Nevertheless, Zuko couldn't repress the resentment stirring within him. The fact that he knew he was being unfair to Aang didn't make him stop feeling bitter; it only added guilt on top of everything else.

"Maybe momma and daddy are already on their way back home, with Uncle Sokka," Tenzin went on, spinning his marbles carelessly, ignorant of Zuko's inner turmoil. "Maybe we'll see them flying on the way back. We could. And when we all get back home, then we can all live together. And daddy can teach me how to fly, and we'll go penguin sledding – d'you know what penguin sledding is, Zuko? It's where people ride penguins down a big hill. Momma told me about it. I didn't believe it, because it sounds silly, but it's true. Momma says it's pretty fun. Daddy used to go penguin sledding with momma back a long time ago. Did you ever go penguin sledding, Zuko? Me and Daddy and momma will all go together, and you should come too, and Ursa can come too – "

Zuko flinched again at the mention of his daughter's name. Lightning cracked in the sky, echoing the sound of his heart.

" – And it'll be fun, and we'll do lots of stuff together," Tenzin rambled on, relentlessly. "And since Daddy's the Avatar, he'll make sure Azula won't bother us anymore. He'll fix everything. I bet he'll make his eyes and arrows go all glowy. And then him and Momma will get married, like they're supposed to, and maybe I'll get a little brother, and – "

"Tenzin," Zuko rasped severely, unable to bear any more of this. "Could you please be quiet for a little while?"

Tenzin looked up at Zuko in confusion, clearly rather indignant and injured. But the stern tone of Zuko's voice silenced him, and he didn't say anything else – merely pushed himself back up into a sitting position, leaned against the ship's railing, and unleashed a heavy, impatient sigh, spinning his marbles on the air around his fingers.

Zuko closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the railing, also sighing wearily. A fierce battle was raging within him, and he struggled to smother it, but his spirit felt as ominously stormy as those looming clouds behind them. The distant thunder sent small vibrations through the ship, and Zuko distracted himself for a moment by wondering where Azula was. Then he wondered where Katara was, and whether she'd thought about him at all since she left him back in the Fire Nation. Then he wondered if Suki was having a nice sleep.

He breathed, envious of all the other people on the planet who had the luxury of sleeping right now. He listened to Suki's even breathing, and regretted that he wasn't able to join her. Not now. Not yet. Maybe later… Later he'd get some sleep…

* * *

><p>"Hey, Zuko. You okay?"<p>

Zuko jolted, startled at that voice – no, _startled _wasn't strong enough a word – maybe shocked, or dumbfounded, or knocked utterly senseless. Where did he know that voice from? – _Did_ he? – Yes! Of course he knew it! He just hadn't heard it in five years…

He looked up, and there, sitting near him, glancing down at him with an expression of mild, uneasy concern, was the Airbender who owned the voice. The bald, lanky, big-eared, bright-eyed kid himself. Exactly the way he'd looked last time Zuko had seen him, when he was only – how old? – fifteen? sixteen? – something like that. For a moment, Zuko could manage to do nothing else but gape at him, mouth dangling open in shock.

"_Aang_?" he choked.

"Hey," Aang replied, furrowing his brow at him, and asking again, "You okay, Zuko?"

Just the sight of the long-lost Avatar instantly caused Zuko a melee of strange emotions. His first impulse was, oddly, to attack him – as if Zuko had instantly reverted into being fifteen or sixteen himself. His second impulse was simply to laugh – not because he was happy or amused, but because… just because. After that came a variety of urges to yell at him, hug him, hit him, yell at him again, order him to leave, offer him tea, capture him, hurt him in some way or another, yell at him some more, and apologize.

But Zuko didn't do any of that. He just continued to gape at Aang, helplessly, and finally demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check up on you," Aang said, leaning against his knees and scrutinizing Zuko worriedly. "I heard you were kinda going through a hard time. So… is everything all right?"

At last, recovering from the shock of seeing Aang there, Zuko managed to look around at the scenery for the first time, and suddenly realized that they were both in a forest – an unknown, yet somehow slightly familiar forest, thick with trees that stretched up narrow and tall toward the sky. Dusty golden light filtered through the branches, and it felt like morning. Zuko was lying on the ground, flat on his back, staring up at Aang, who was sitting on a thick tree root above him. Although it all made Zuko feel dazed and disoriented, and he wondered where they were and how they'd got there, he never thought to ask Aang. He was sure he'd remember it on his own, or figure it out. In fact, this place – and the way the two of them were sitting right now – all felt like something he'd already experienced once in his life, but he just couldn't yet recall when or where.

So, rather than questioning any of it, Zuko merely pushed himself up off the ground, slouching against another tree root at his back, and gathered his knees up to himself. Aang kept watching him, but Zuko wouldn't look at him. He shut his eyes instead, trying to bottle in his stormy emotions, and scowled.

"No," Zuko muttered at last, rather bitterly. "Everything's not all right. _Nothing_'s all right. But I can handle it."

Aang studied him gravely. "Did you want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Zuko didn't reply. He just seethed, and set his jaw stubbornly. 'Not to you, no. Not really."

"Well, I'm the only one here, so – "

"Yeah, well, I didn't _ask _you to come check up on me, Aang."

Aang hesitated. "I just want to help – "

"You _can't _help," Zuko snapped, boiling with a thousand sharp griefs, angers, regrets and resentments that he barely understood. "You're pretty much the _last _person I want to talk to right now. So, I think you should probably just leave me alone."

They were both silent for a while, and the forest morning chirped and clicked tranquilly around them. Zuko stared intently at the ground, determined that he was going to drive Aang away merely by giving him the cold shoulder. Zuko was already having enough trouble handling his feelings regarding Azula, and Katara, and Uncle and Ursa – he couldn't deal with Aang right now on top of that. It would be easier to just snub the Airbender until he left him alone.

Aang stared at him for a while, but after a few minutes, he turned his eyes away as well, sighing heavily. Zuko wondered hopefully if that sigh meant he was about to give up and leave. And yet – bafflingly – Zuko also suddenly worried that Aang _would_ actually leave. Guilt and remorse stirred within him prematurely, anticipating it – anticipating how sorry Zuko would feel if he did succeed in driving Aang away.

But luckily (or maybe unluckily), Aang didn't leave yet.

"Look, Zuko," he finally said, "I don't know why you're so mad at me. But, I think there are some pretty important things we need to talk about, don't you?"

"Like what?" Zuko muttered.

"You tell me."

Now Zuko finally conceded to look at him, glowering at him bitterly. "I don't have anything to say to you right now."

Aang gave him a frustrated, bewildered frown. "You seem like you have _a lot_ to say to me, actually. But you just don't want to deal with it. Seriously, what's going on? I don't understand. What did I do to make you so upset at me?"

Zuko just scoffed. "What did you do!"

"Zuko, what _did _I do?"

Zuko didn't reply, because he wasn't entirely sure what to say. He thought about several possible answers, but none of them felt right, and most of them didn't make any sense at all. So, to hide the fact that he had no real answer to Aang's question, he only scowled and shook his head in exasperation.

"_What_?" Aang demanded. "You're acting like I should already know!"

At last, overcome with a fury he couldn't explain, Zuko burst to life – with swift energy, he punched his fist in Aang's direction, hurling a vicious stream of fire at him. Aang sprang nimbly out of the way, perching in the branches of the tree above Zuko's head.

Almost uncontrollably, Zuko leaped to his feet and, arms quivering, threw another fireball at him, forcing Aang to flutter away to a different tree.

"You want to know why I'm mad?" Zuko roared, pursuing Aang through the forest and flinging fire as he went. "You _really _want to know?"

"Why are you mad?" Aang shouted down at him, leaping between trees as Zuko's fire blasts came flying at him mercilessly.

"Because – !" His feet stumbled over the uneven forest ground as he chased Aang, and his words stumbled over themselves as he fought to sort out his own mind. "Because – I don't know! For lots of reasons!"

"But what did I do?" Aang asked again, bounding away as Zuko hurled yet another jet of fire at him.

"What did you _do_? You _disappeared! _That's what you did!"

"But I didn't do it on purpose – !"

"You just disappeared – how could you do that?" Zuko went on, overwhelmed with his irrational rage, throwing attacks at Aang with increased fury and not caring at all whether his anger was reasonable. "How could you do that? You just abandoned _everyone_! And you know who had to replace you, Aang? Huh?"

"Zuko – !"

"_I _did! I had to replace you! I didn't want to – I didn't ask for this! I just got _stuck _with it! I've had to do _everything!_ I had to take care of the world without you – do you think that was _easy_? I've had to be Tenzin's dad, because he didn't have one! And I had to be Katara's… _you._ That was the worst. She needed you! They _both _did! But you weren't there, so I had to take care of them instead!"

"No one asked you to – !"

"I didn't have a choice!" Zuko thundered, leaping over a fallen log almost automatically. His body was basically running itself now, chasing Aang through the forest and attacking him on its own, while Zuko's mind was busy screaming. "But you know what? It doesn't matter! Nothing I do matters! No matter what I do, for either of them, it doesn't make a difference, because I'm not you – !"

"Zuko, calm down!" Aang ordered him fiercely, springing out of the way of another burst of flames from Zuko's trembling fists.

They'd run quite far through the forest now, Aang leaping through the branches, Zuko struggling to keep pace with him over the tangled, uneven forest floor. Although Zuko was flinging fire at Aang relentlessly, none of his attacks ever came close to hitting the Airbender. Perhaps Aang was too quick, or Zuko's anger threw off his aim. Or, perhaps, something inside of Zuko was purposefully holding him back from actually trying to hit Aang.

"_No! _I'm not gonna calm down!" Zuko roared, clambering wildly over the roots and ridges of the forest floor as he pursued Aang through the trees. He was so inundated with fury, grief, bitterness, guilt, and unbearable pain, that he could hardly manage to keep his balance as he ran.

"You're not thinking clearly!" Aang shouted. "If you'd just – "

"I don't care!" Zuko cried. "I've got _nothing _left, Aang! Understand? _Nothing! _My mom's never coming back – I lost Mai – and now Uncle and Ursa are gone too! They're _gone! _What am I supposed to do without them? I've got nothing now! The only people I have left are Katara and Tenzin – except they're not even mine! They're _yours! _Katara doesn't want me – she'll never want me – and Tenzin's never gonna think of me as his dad, even though that's basically what I am! And it's _your fault!_ All of it – it's all because of _you!_"

His fury rose to a kind of climax, and in the throes of wild rage, Zuko hurled an especially ferocious explosion in Aang's direction. It missed its mark rather egregiously, and the force of it caused Zuko to lose his balance. He stumbled, tripping over a tree root, and fell flat on his face, simmering and quivering and hurting – just _hurting_, all the way through. Everything was spinning, and when he looked up again, he found that they'd somehow circled all the way back to the forest clearing where they'd begun, and Aang had drifted back down to the ground. He stood before him, placidly, gazing at Zuko with mournful solemnity.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang said softly. "This isn't how I wanted things to turn out either, you know. But I'm here now. I won't run away from you anymore. So, if you want to hit me, go ahead. I'll take it."

Zuko could only lie there on the ground for a moment, face in the dirt, quaking with the sharp, raw pain, burning with the unfairness of it all. He kept lying there, for several moments. He didn't really want to hit Aang – he _didn't_. He didn't want to chase Aang away, or hurt him. He wanted to let it all go – he wanted to stop being angry – he wanted to be friends with Aang. He wanted to be friends again, like they used to be, like they were _supposed _to be. He hated feeling this way; it shouldn't have been like this.

Yet, despite himself – despite being fully aware that he truly didn't want to attack Aang – Zuko still lurched suddenly up off the ground and launched a violent torrent of crackling red flames at the Airbender. And Aang, just as he'd promised, stood there and took it.

When the flames subsided, Zuko gaped, breathing heavily. Aang was gone. The forest was silent.

A sudden icy horror washed over him. Zuko stumbled to his feet, reeling dizzily, and scanned the tree branches frantically, expecting to see Aang up there, leaping away to safety. But Aang wasn't in the branches – he wasn't anywhere – he was gone.

Zuko's stomach churned with dread. What had he done? Why had he done that? Where was Aang? Had he killed him? No – _no_, he couldn't have. Had he hurt him? He must have – there was no way Aang could have taken such an attack, at such close range, without being injured.

But where _was _he?

Snarling with frustration and remorse, Zuko collapsed to his knees, holding his head and tearing his fingers frantically through his hair. _Why_ had he done that? Why had he attacked him? He hadn't _wanted _to – yet he'd done it anyway! How could he do that to Aang? It wasn't Aang's fault. Everything that Zuko was so angry about, everything that was hurting him right now – none of that was Aang's fault. Aang hadn't had anything to do with it. Aang was only incidental. Easy to blame, but guiltless. And Aang was his friend, one of his closest friends. How could he have done that to him? What was _wrong _with him? What kind of horrible person was he?

And now Aang was just _gone_. Maybe he was truly gone, forever. No one would ever see him again.

If he was…

If Aang _was _gone… gone for good…

Then Katara would be free. She would no longer be so hopelessly attached to Aang, beyond the ability to let go, the way she was now. She'd be free to attach herself to someone else. She'd be free to love Zuko, the way he wanted her to love him. And Tenzin might finally start calling Zuko "daddy," instead of Aang – the way Zuko felt he deserved.

But those thoughts didn't make Zuko feel relieved, or triumphant, or satisfied. They only left him feeling sick and miserable. Sick with guilt – because Zuko had let his own selfishness take over him, and now Aang was gone, and both Katara and Tenzin would be deprived of him. Miserable with self-loathing – because the first thing to come to Zuko's mind after realizing Aang was gone was the idea that he could now keep Katara and Tenzin to himself, and he was disgusted at himself for even _thinking _that.

It wasn't fair. None of it. It just wasn't fair.

"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is?"

For the second time, Zuko jolted in surprise at the sound of Aang's voice. He whirled around, heart pounding, and saw Aang standing there in the clearing behind him: perfectly fine, unscathed, gazing at him pensively.

"Aang?" Zuko gasped, frowning. "You're okay?" Oddly – despite Zuko's deep grief and remorse only moments before, the sight of the Airbender standing there, without a single injury, made Zuko feel instantly annoyed again. But, even still, Zuko had completely lost the urge to attack him.

Aang turned away from Zuko, leaning against a tree and staring thoughtfully at nothing.

"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is?" he asked again, as if he were reciting a line in a play, and were waiting for Zuko to say his part.

All at once, Zuko remembered where he'd seen this forest before.

"You miss your old friends," Zuko replied, finishing Aang's thought.

Aang nodded quietly.

"I remember you telling me that before," Zuko said, "last time we were both here in this place, about eight years ago, after I saved you from Zhao – "

"I saved _you_ too, if you recall," Aang added, in a rather ironic tone. "Even after you threatened to kill me, to make me reincarnate."

"I remember that," Zuko sighed, nodding wearily. "You dragged me off into the forest after I got shot, and stayed here till I woke up, and then started rambling on about some old friend of yours. I remember. That was when you asked if I thought we could have been friends too."

Aang's mouth twitched with a small, rather sad smile. "Yeah. And you just threw a bunch of fire at me that time, too."

Zuko remembered. He remembered the immediate, bewildering regret he'd felt then, as he'd watched Aang leap away into the trees. He'd just stood there, even long after Aang had vanished from sight: wondering why he felt no urge to go after Aang and capture him, as he usually did; wondering why Aang had gone through the trouble of saving his life; wondering, most of all, what might have had happened if he _hadn't _thrown a bunch of fire at Aang and chased him away.

Aang sighed. "I kinda hoped we'd gotten past all this a _long _time ago, Zuko. This thing of you attacking me." He looked at Zuko, with heavy sorrow. "I thought we were friends."

Zuko hesitated, and realized that all his anger had completely drained out of him, leaving him feeling thoroughly dry and empty and, almost, ashamed of himself.

"We are friends," he muttered at last, also sighing. "It's just… things are complicated."

Aang didn't reply. He kept his gaze fixed thoughtfully on Zuko. A soft rain suddenly began to fall through the forest. The cold raindrops battered Zuko's skin, and he shivered.

Zuko just shook his head, exhausted and confused by his own warring emotions. "I'm sorry I attacked you."

"It's okay," Aang said. "At least you got it out of your system."

Zuko scoffed softly.

"Can I ask you a question, though?"

He looked at Aang. "What?"

Aang's eyes suddenly flickered with urgency. "Do you know where my son is?"

The rain fell harder.

Zuko furrowed his brow, bewildered and taken aback. That was the _last _question he'd expected from Aang at the moment. Somehow, in this forest, where he and Aang had spoken years ago – while they'd been busy reminiscing about the past – it had slipped Zuko's mind momentarily that Tenzin even _existed_.

"Uh," Zuko stammered, squinting at Aang through the heavily falling rain. "Tenzin –?"

"Do you know where he is, Zuko?" Aang repeated his question sternly. "Weren't you keeping an eye on him for me?"

Zuko shook his head dizzily, struggling to realign himself with reality. "Yeah… I was. He, uh – well, he was with me just a few minutes ago – "

"But he's not anymore," Aang informed him hastily, as thunder cracked above them. Aang came and knelt before Zuko, staring him gravely in the eye. "It's time for you to wake up now, Zuko. Glad we were able to have this talk – you needed it, I think. But you've got to go. Get up and go find Tenzin! _Now!_"

* * *

><p>Zuko lurched back to consciousness, stomach churning.<p>

The storm had caught up with the ship at last. Sharp, icy raindrops fell with rapidly escalating ferocity, spearing Zuko's flesh. Suki was still asleep beside him, mumbling and restlessly stirring back to wakefulness herself.

All was dark. The wind howled. Soldiers darted about, shouting at one another. The ship reeled and groaned.

Zuko took all this in in a second, and instantly knew something was missing. His heart stopped beating.

Tenzin was gone.


	29. The Storm, Part Two: The Eye

_Confession: action scenes are super hard to write (at least for me). Words just take too long when things are happening fast. So, consequently, this chapter was pretty hard to write, even though I've been looking forward to it for a while and it was still _really_ fun – both a pleasure and a chore. Isn't that weird? Anyway, I hope I've done a good job! If so, please tell me, so that I can feel more confident about myself, haha. And if not, then please tell me that too, so that I can try to do better! (But please be specific about WHAT I should do better, lol) _:D

***NoAlias**: _I wanted to thank you for your review, but I couldn't PM you, so I thought I'd just do it here: Ahem… _Thanks for your review! _Hehe. I always appreciate very thoughtful, thorough reviews, and it's extremely encouraging to hear that I'm handling the complexities of the story with general success. I'll admit, it isn't easy to keep track of so many characters and their various emotional situations! I have mad respect for the show's writers for doing it so well. Especially because they always remembered _Momo!_ It's easy to forget that Momo's there sometimes. But yeah, I also wanted to reply to two things you said:  
><em>_ 1. About Tenzin – yes, my best friend has a son who's turning five this November, and he's a very affectionate and opinionated little heart-breaker, and I channel him a lot whenever I write Tenzin (whilst also trying to keep Tenzin's grown-up personality in mind). I also used to tutor young kids in English, so I've had some experience with that age group. I always get annoyed in movies and stories when kids act like precocious mini-adults, instead of like… I dunno, _KIDS! _And then there's the opposite extreme, the overly-cutesy cherub-child, which is just as annoying. I do get paranoid sometimes that Tenzin will turn into one of those clichés, so it's good to know that he feels like a believable kid. _^_^  
>2. <em>And regarding your concern about Aang's part in the story… Yeah, don't worry. <em>Really, don't worry. REALLY_. There's gonna be stuff… Lots and lots of stuff. But you'll see when we get there. I don't want to spoil anything, so I'll just leave it at that. _ :D

_Also, to address a small question raised by another reviewer recently: Yonten is about 19 years old. I'm not sure if anyone else was confused about his age, but I thought I'd mention it here just in case, haha._

_And to everyone else, thanks for ALL your reviews! As usual, I read and savor them all. Plus they're sort of my fuel to keep writing. So, keep sending them, and I'll keep on enjoying every last one of them! _:)

Aang: "Hey! I was actually _in _that last chapter! Sort of…" ^_^  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Yep! Told you you'd like it."<br>Aang: "So, when will I show up again?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "I can't tell you that! It would spoil the story! People are <em>reading <em>this conversation, you know!"  
>Aang: "<em>They are?!<em> Have people been reading _all _our conversations?" 0_0  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Um, ye-e-e-es…"<br>Aang: "What? Why didn't you tell me?! Now I just feel weird talking to you!"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Sorry. I thought you knew. Anyway, moving on…"<p>

* * *

><p><strong>THE STORM, PART TWO:<br>The Eye**

"_Tenzin!" _Zuko thundered, leaping to his feet immediately, as lightning split the sky.

Suki woke with a start, just in time to see him take off sprinting across the dark, rainy deck. It took less than a second for her mind to put the pieces of the situation together. The sharp raindrops fell harder, and Suki's entire body froze in a surge of profound horror. She'd let herself fall asleep! And Zuko had fallen asleep too! And now he was yelling for Tenzin – he was yelling for…

_Tenzin_.

Gone! Tenzin was gone!

She scrambled to her feet in a panic, blinking against the vicious rain and wind. They'd let him disappear. They'd let him be taken –

_No… _She could only pray that he'd merely wandered off on his own, that Azula hadn't actually taken him. Azula wouldn't bother keeping him alive for a single minute, if she once got her hands on him. It would be over for him the instant that she had him in her grasp. But even if he _had _just wandered off – now he was alone, separated from the group.

Tenzin – little Tenzin – Alone. Isolated. Unprotected. Lost.

A million horrific, heart-sickening images flooded her mind in an instant. What ghastly sight would be waiting for them when they found him again? She imagined, with cold dread, that they'd discover him deep below – his little body just abandoned, tossed aside in a hallway – his throat slit and bleeding out. He'd be dead long before they found him. And that would be it. The abrupt, meaningless, gruesome conclusion to his unfairly short life. His last moments would be ones of total fear, confusion, helplessness, wanting his mother, wanting to go home. Then it would be over. And it would be _their _fault, for falling asleep.

Poor Tenzin! – He was so innocent and small. Bright-eyed. Happy. Honest. Innocent. Small. Naïve. Fragile. Each word tore another crack through Suki's heart. He was too young – _too young_ – and too good and trusting and defenseless, to meet such a terrible fate!

How could _anyone…_? But Azula would. Azula would.

All because they'd fallen asleep. Such a small, stupid mistake! And yet Tenzin would be cheated out of his life because of it. He might already… And then Katara would find out –

Oh –

_Katara. _They'd have to tell Katara. They'd have to tell her that her son was gone. Because they fell asleep. And for the rest of their lives, they'd wake up every day knowing that it was their fault that Tenzin was –

Suki reeled against the railing, holding her head, feeling as if the deck were sliding out from beneath her feet. _No. Not Tenzin. Anyone but Tenzin._

She was hardly aware of anything now, in her condition of mind-numbing horror, but suddenly she realized that Zuko was coming back. He darted toward her, slipping and sliding on the rain-soaked deck, his wet hair flying chaotically in the stormy gale, his eyes grown large and savage with fright.

"_Suki!_" he roared, his voice cracking with panic. He took hold of her by the arms and shook her violently, and she could feel that every single one of his muscles was quaking with powerful tremors. "Don't just stand there! – We have to – He's somewhere! – He has to be – Hurry! Find him! _Find him!_"

Suki broke out of her momentary trance of shock and dread, and instantly her mind began to work at double-speed, to make up for lost time.

"Well, stop yelling and _do something, _Zuko!" she screamed, shoving past him and racing off, tying back her dripping hair so that the wind wouldn't keep blowing it into her eyes. She sprinted across the deck, heading toward the middle of the ship, heart shrieking with adrenaline, eyes absorbing every detail around her with frantic precision. The storm pushed and shoved and wailed maliciously, and the ship tilted one way, then the other.

Zuko pounded frantically behind her. Lightning snapped with redoubled cruelty, and the ocean swelled beneath the ship, beating it from every side.

Suki drew her fans out as she ran. Every possible scenario flashed through her mind in a second. All the ropes in the ship's rigging whipped wildly in the brutal wind. Where would he be? Where should they look? What was the first thing to do?

"Ashiro!" she shouted, spotting the general across the deck. He was in the process of helping some of his soldiers secure the lifeboats, and looked up at her in surprise at her sharp tone.

"I know – I know!" he cried. "We've got to get out of the storm! I'll tell the helmsman to – "

"_Forget the storm!_" she interrupted him. "Tenzin! It's Tenzin!"

"Tenzin's gone!" Zuko cried, running up behind her, barely breathing in his panic.

Ashiro's eyes grew wide, and he instantly dropped the rope in his hands and inserted his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, letting out an ear-splitting whistle to his soldiers.

"Everyone – stop what you're doing!" he commanded, his voice severe and urgent. "The boy's gone missing! Spread out and search the deck! Alert everyone you meet! Once you've searched above, go below – don't waste any time! Every second is vital!"

"Someone head to the bridge and sound the emergency alarm!" Zuko added.

"Right! – You, Heitai – " Ashiro pointed at one of the nearby soldiers, "do as the Fire Lord says, and take someone with you. Everyone else, stay together – !"

"No one go anywhere alone!" Suki shouted. "Be on your guard!"

"Search _everywhere!_" Zuko bellowed. "Don't leave anything unchecked!"

"I need five of you to come with me, now!" Ashiro barked. "If anyone finds the boy, take him to the bridge immediately and shut off the alarm to signal us, and stay there till I come! Hurry! _Go!_"

The soldiers were already scattering, drawing forth their weapons and repeating the orders in frantic shouts amongst themselves. Ashiro turned back to Zuko, with a fierce look in his eyes, as lightning cracked and flooded everything with violent light for a heartbeat's instant. Five of the soldiers stayed, gathering around the general.

"We'll stay with you, Fire Lord," Ashiro declared solemnly. "What are your orders?"

"We should go below and look for him," Zuko shouted, almost hysterical with fright. "We have to find him! We have to hurry – _we have to hurry!_" He was taking off running as he said this, with Suki close behind him, heading for the nearest door that led into the ship's interior. Ashiro and the other soldiers followed hastily.

The entire ship groaned and lurched in the storm, as Zuko burst through the door. He lost his balance and fell against the wall, frantically pushing himself up and almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. The barren corridor was completely dark and deadly silent, but only for a moment. The emergency alarm began to go off almost immediately – a sinister red light flooded the hall, flashing slowly on and off again, while a deep ominous wail reverberated deafeningly in the walls and the floor.

Zuko's head pulsed, throbbing with a fear more tangible than any he'd ever felt in his life, throbbing in time with the red lights and the blaring alarm. He reached the set of metal stairs at the end of the hall, and practically flew down the steps, deep into the heart of the ship, down into the viper's lair, with everyone else right on his heels.

Where was he going? He didn't know – he didn't care – he was just _going_. He'd go and go and go until he found Tenzin. That was all. That was all there was.

What would he find? What would he find?

His stomach felt like it was flipping itself inside out, revolting against the maddening dread.

If she'd done anything to him… If he wasn't all right when they found him…

Zuko would kill her. He would.

She was his sister, but he didn't care. She'd taken his wife – she'd already stolen his daughter, and Uncle – She'd made his life a nightmare –

If she'd done anything to Tenzin, he'd kill her. He'd rip her heart out. Right there. No hesitation, no mercy.

He felt as if his blood had turned to fire in his veins. His footsteps – and the footsteps of everyone behind him – resounded eerily in the corridor, mingled with the haunting bellow of the alarm, and the distant howling of the storm that battered the ship. The heady whirlwind of sounds around him, and the careening of the sea, and the deep darkness of the ship's bowels alternating with the bloody red glare of the emergency lights, all made Zuko feel a little unreal, a little insane.

Tenzin would be all right. He had to be. He _had _to be. Tenzin couldn't die. Not him – not Tenzin. Anyone but Tenzin. They'd find him, and he'd be okay.

They just had to find him.

* * *

><p>Azula was asleep, deep in the boiler room, when the emergency alarm went off and woke her up.<p>

Her mind quickly gathered itself together – piecemeal, discordant, jaggedly sharp. Deductions crackled. Calculations sparked. Her heart pounded.

The alarm was going off, but she hadn't done anything to make it go off. Why would it go off if she hadn't caused it?

Was Zuko trying to scare her somehow? Frighten her out of hiding? Was that it? Trying to turn her game back around on her?

Her fingernails scratched subconsciously at the skin on her arms.

Or was it something else? Had something interesting happened, without her knowing about it? She knew that there was a storm going on. She'd seen it coming a mile away. But she didn't see why they'd set off the emergency alarm just because of a storm. And the ship couldn't have hit anything – it couldn't be breaking up, or sinking. She would have felt some kind of tremor.

So why would Zuko set off the alarm? What would get him in enough of a panic to do that?

Azula's mouth suddenly broke into a small, knowing smile.

The boy must have run off. The little Airbender. They must have lost him.

She snickered to herself. That had to be it. Nothing else would make Zuko so flustered. He'd lost the boy, the Avatar's son, the water-witch's precious baby-doll, the one Zuko pretended was his.

Well. That's what Zuzu got for not keeping a close enough eye on him. One never knew what these little things would do if you didn't watch them every second.

Her fingers were already curling around the hilt of the little knife, her knife. Her feet were already moving. She was up – she was going. She was slipping out of the boiler room, into the hall that flashed urgent red in the blinking emergency lights, where everything trembled with the wordless, howling warning of the alarms. She was already on her way, to find the boy. She'd find him before they did. If he was really stupid enough to run off alone, then, honestly, he was just _asking _to have his throat slit. And Azula was more than willing to oblige.

She knew that her brother and the Kyoshi Warrior were probably scouring the ship for him at this very moment. But Azula moved swiftly – she was faster than they were. And she wouldn't be running blindly, as they undoubtedly were. They'd spent all their time cowering up on the deck. But she'd been down here all the while, hiding down below, getting to know the ship's many passageways. She was calm. She knew where she was going. She'd find the boy before them, and then she'd make good on the promise she'd made to Zuko. The promise that she'd slit his little boy's throat, with his – her – knife. This was her chance. She kept all her promises, after all; she was a woman of her word.

And if all went well, perhaps she'd manage to catch the long-overdue Kyoshi Warrior in the process. That smug, pathetic fan-waver who thought she was so _good_ – perhaps her time had come at last.

Perhaps, Azula thought, she'd even have the opportunity to slit both of their throats, while Zuko watched. She hoped so. She couldn't imagine anything more wonderfully theatrical, or beautifully effective.

* * *

><p><em>BRUR-R-R, BRUR-R-R…<em>

The alarm growled like a massive, mechanical beast. The walls and floors shuddered.

Suki let herself drift to the back of the group, behind Ashiro's soldiers, as they thundered through the red-dark-red corridors – not because she couldn't keep up, but because she preferred to be at the rear. She preferred to see clearly what was behind her.

They'd gone down several flights of stairs, past many decks, and must have been nearly to the bottom of the ship by now. The hall they were now passing through was wide and straight, with many doors and smaller passageways opening off along both sides. As she ran, Suki kept her eyes moving warily, with frantic energy – forward and backward. Forward, to the soldiers sprinting in front of her, with Zuko in the lead. Backward, to the empty corridor behind her: now illuminated in the eerie red glow of the lights, now vanishing again into darkness, until the light flashed on once more. Over and over. It was those intermittent seconds of darkness in between the blinking of the lights – when the corridor briefly stopped existing, when only the various sounds of danger remained – that kept her heart thudding at full speed.

"Tenzin!" Zuko was bellowing desperately ahead of her. "_Tenzin!_"

But there was still no reply to his calls, and the longer the search continued without success, the more tense Suki became, certain that whatever was going to happen was going to happen very, very soon.

Her fingers clutched her fans, fully alert, ready to fight at a moment's notice. Every step took them deeper into the ship. Every inch of the ship creaked and groaned from the strain of the storm raging outside. Every particle in the air vibrated from the guttural noise of the alarm.

Where was he? Where would Tenzin have gone, if he'd run off? Where would Azula have taken him, if she had him?

When would they finally stumble across him?

The anticipation of that moment, the moment when they did finally find him, made her feel sick with anxiety. She wanted to find him, more than anything – but she almost didn't, because of the fear of _how _they would find him, of what they would see when it finally happened.

What would they find? The question throbbed in her every nerve.

What would they find?... But she didn't want to know the answer.

Not until it happened. She wouldn't think about it. Not until the inevitable moment of discovery was finally face-to-face with them. Then they'd see what they found, and hopefully it wouldn't be what she was dreading.

Then, as they ran farther down the main corridor, Suki glanced into one of the narrow passages that opened off on the right, connecting with another larger corridor that ran parallel with theirs. And, without warning, she caught a glimpse of a phantom.

In the brief red glow of the lights, she saw the slender, wild-haired figure flash by, darting past the opening in the other parallel corridor, moving in the opposite direction that they were. Then all went dark for a second, and Suki's heart leaped, and she let out a sharp gasp, and then the lights came back on.

"There! I saw her!" she screamed, coming to a halt so suddenly that her feet practically screeched on the metal floor. "She's there! Everyone follow me! _Hurry!_"

She was turning around, already slipping into the narrow side passage as she shouted this, too impatient to wait for the others to catch up with her own mind. They'd figure it out. They'd follow her. There was no time to wait. Azula would get away if they allowed her even an extra second.

Suki raced through the narrow passage, emerging into the larger parallel corridor, and whirled on her heels, turning to the right, in the direction she'd seen Azula running. The lights went off, and for an aggravating instant, it was too dark to see anything. Suki could hear the footsteps of the others echoing in the passage behind her. Then the red lights burst to life again, and she saw Azula. Fleeing down the long corridor.

For a moment, Azula glanced over her shoulder at Suki. Their eyes met.

The lights went off.

Suki launched one of her fans with a ferocious roar, aiming for Azula's head, already running after her. The lights came back on.

Azula dodged the fan with a nimble lurch backwards, only barely managing to avoid having the skin of her face grazed off by its razor-sharp edge. The lights went off.

Tumbling adroitly onto the ground, Azula turned and threw her fists back at Suki. A stream of crackling blue fire erupted from her hands, flooding the corridor. The lights came back on.

Suki hastily sidestepped the flames as she ran, not slowing her stride in the slightest, rebounding off the wall and sweeping away whatever fire was nearest to her with her other fan. The lights went off. For an instant, Suki was aware of the pungent stench of her own hair, singed. But she didn't care. The lights came back on. Azula was taking off again, slipping away into another side hallway. And, scooping up her first fan off the floor in one swift motion, Suki sped after her.

The pursuit took them through hall after hall, up stairs and through doors and down stairs again, zig-zagging wildly through the maze of the ship's bowels, while the alarm bellowed and the red emergency light blinked on and off and on and off around them. In the flashing light, Azula looked even more unreal – running in the light, disappearing in the darkness, then reappearing in the light again, but in a different place than before, as if she were skipping through space. Suki soon lost track of where they were, or where the exit was – but that didn't matter either. All her thoughts were bent on catching Azula, on not allowing Azula to escape her sight. Each time the lights went off, Suki cringed with fear that Azula wouldn't be there when they came back on again. But she always was; Suki managed to keep her within view, even if it was barely a glimpse of her darting around some corner or through some doorway.

For a while, as she ran, Suki could hear Zuko, Ashiro, and the other soldiers running behind her, shouting things, making blurry, half-heard noise. But after turning one corner too many, the sounds of the others faded away, and only the blaring of the alarms and the whining of the ship and the hammering of her own footsteps remained.

Azula was fast. Suki was equally so, and just as agile as Azula was at changing direction, dodging into new rooms and halls, flying down staircases in a single bound. The others didn't keep up. They lost the scent. It was only Suki now.

She was aware of this, vaguely. She was aware. She knew that she didn't want to be caught alone with Azula – that being alone was bad. This idea was somewhere in her mind, hovering near the back. But if she waited for the others to catch up, or tried to go back and find them, Azula would get away again. And Suki couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't. Azula _always _got away.

_Not this time_.

No – Suki wouldn't allow it. Not again. It was time for this to end. Enough was enough.

The hall ahead of them made a sharp turn to the right, and Suki saw Azula dash around the corner ahead of her. The lights went off. She clenched her teeth and pushed herself harder, willed her legs to move faster, determined to put an end to this. Her lungs strained, and sweat rolled down her face. The lights came back on. She stormed around the corner, whipping her head to the right to quickly catch sight of Azula's wild figure before it vanished again.

Without warning, Azula turned and flung something small and round in Suki's direction. It was still flying through the air when –

– the lights went off –

– and Suki's heart took an icy plunge into her stomach.

Three words flashed through her mind in an instant.

_Bomb. Explosion. Run._

Without a moment's hesitation, Suki frantically retreated, hurling herself back down the hall the way she'd just come – her heart screamed with fear – she stumbled – she spotted a small alcove in the wall on her left and dove into it – the lights came back on.

Everything erupted around her.

The entire hall gushed with brutal heat and flames and the ear-splitting crack of the explosion. The metal walls were ripped to shreds, or – if they remained intact – crumpled and bulged against the force of it. Razor-ribbons of shrapnel burst in all directions. Though somewhat sheltered in the metal alcove, Suki was still bashed against the wall, and the skin on her right arm and leg – which were more exposed – crackled and sizzled in the flames, and she screamed in pain.

But after a moment, the explosion settled. The tattered corridor descended into simmering, smoky silence. Suki could still hear the sound of the alarm, but distant now, going off elsewhere in the ship. Here it was silent, broken. The lights didn't come back on.

She breathed slowly, willing her heart to beat normally. The force of the explosion had distorted the walls, folding the alcove almost entirely closed: except for a narrow space left open, Suki would have been trapped inside. But she managed to squeeze out, screaming again as the metal walls scraped against her burnt arm and leg. And she stumbled back into the demolished hallway, limping with pain – but she gritted her teeth, and clutched at her fans, and recovered her determination to not let Azula get away, with twice as much ferocity as before.

All was dark in this part of the hall now – the emergency lights had been blown away – but so had large chunks of the corridor's walls, and now several empty storage closets lay exposed, and their back walls had been torn apart as well. Gashes and streaks were torn through the metal, like rips in fabric torn by a vicious cat's claws, and the eerie light of the storm trickled through those holes. The wind whistled through the holes, wet with icy rain, and in the dim, gray-green light Suki could see that the floor of the hallway was gone. Completely gone. A jagged, gaping chasm had been ripped in it, and she'd no doubt plummet at least two decks down if she fell in.

There was no way to get past that. She couldn't keep chasing Azula. Not this way. The only way to catch up with Azula now would be for her to retrace her steps, try to find an alternate route around the hole. But that would take took long. Azula would be gone. Azula was already gone. _Again_.

Suki growled, boiling with rage, and slammed her fist into the wall.

"AZULA!" she thundered furiously, slowly gathering momentum as she took off running back down the hall in the direction she'd come from before the explosion. All she could hope was that she might possibly run into Azula again, by chance.

Her leg and arm were throbbing with numb pain, but she still kept running. Kept running aimlessly through the corridors, up and down the stairs, looking for Azula, or Tenzin, or Zuko and the others, or the exit, or _something_. She soon returned to the domain of the working emergency lights, and once more everything flashed in brief spurts of red, and the _BRUR-R-R, BRUR-R-R _of the alarm resumed, just as loudly and austerely as before. And she kept running, because she didn't know what else to do.

Hall after hall, room after room, staircase after staircase. But the whole place was filled with nothing, nothing, nothing. There was never anything there. She was alone, and Azula was gone. Escaped _again_.

"_AZULA!_" Suki roared again, overcome with frustration and pain. "_I swear, if I find you again – !_"

"Aunt Suki!"

Her breath lodged in her throat at the little voice. It was nearly smothered in the blare of the alarm, and she almost thought she imagined it for a second.

"Tenzin!" she called.

"Where are you?" he shouted.

For the moment, Suki forgot about Azula entirely. Her heart pounded anxiously. He sounded far away – his voice bounced off of many walls, from some distant corridor. But he was alive. _He was still alive_.

"I'm right here!" she answered him, though she had no idea how _that_ answer could possibly be helpful to him. "I mean – where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah! I'm all right!"

"Keep talking!" she shouted, as she took off running again, struggling to ignore the savage pain in her leg. "Don't go anywhere! I'm coming to find you!"

"Are you close?" he asked frantically. "You sound like you're close! Where are you? I heard a really loud noise earlier!"

"Yeah, I know," she replied. "It's okay, though! Just don't worry about it! Don't be afraid."

"Should I run to you too?"

"No, no! Just stay in one place, or I might not be able to find you! Don't move! And keep yelling!"

"Okay! I'm not moving!... Um… What should I yell?"

"Anything! Just so I can follow your voice."

"I'M YELLING NOW SO YOU CAN FI-I-I-I-IND ME-E-E-E!"

She found herself almost laughing faintly as she ran, chuckling at Tenzin, but mostly just overwhelmingly relieved that he was alive. She was so relieved that her head was spinning and floating rather giddily – though that might have been partially because of her burns, too.

"I don't know where anything is!" Tenzin kept on shouting. "This place is really confusing down here! Are you finding me yet?"

His voice sounded louder and clearer now. "Yeah, I'm almost there!" she cried, turning a corner. "How did you get down here?"

"I went off by myself." He sounded ashamed, and rather fearful. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. I just wanted to – And then it rained, and – and Zuko was – But I got lost, and – I was only gonna… Am I in trouble? I know I wasn't supposed to. I'm really, really, _really_ sorry!"

"It's okay," she shouted, certain that she was almost there. "As long as you're okay!"

She sped around a corner, into a long, straight hallway, and – _at last_ – the red lights flashed on, and there he was. Standing there, about halfway down the hall, right in the center, with his head turned upward and his hands cupped around his mouth. He jumped in surprise and relief when he saw her, and the lights went off.

"Hey!" he cried excitedly.

Then the lights came back on, and a dark, savage figure burst suddenly out of a side room, leaping into the corridor only a few steps behind Tenzin.

And the next moment, less than a second, became a whirlwind of sounds and images all happening at once:

Azula's wild hair and limbs, black in the eerie light – piercing eyes turned on Tenzin–

A gasp from Suki's throat – a small, sharp heart-attack – a leap forward –

The knife in Azula's hand – Azula's feet moving, coming toward Tenzin –

Suki's feet flying forward – her hand reaching out to Tenzin – but too far away – her chest bursting with an incomprehensible scream –

Tenzin whirling – eyes on Azula – screaming –

And the lights went off.

Azula had her hands on him long before Suki was close enough. She grasped at his clothes roughly. The lights came back on.

And Tenzin unleashed a sudden gush of air. Azula was thrown off her feet, flung far down to the other end of the hallway, while Tenzin himself was launched backwards into the air. He crashed right into Suki, and they both tumbled painfully, panting with fright, onto the ground.

With frenzied haste, Suki grasped the little boy in her arms and shoved him to his feet, fighting to catch her breath and scramble up herself. Azula was clambering back to her feet as well, at the far end of the hall, stumbling toward them with blue flames crackling out of her fists.

"Tenzin, _run!_" Suki bellowed at him frantically. "Get out of here! Go find Zuko! _Now!_"

Tenzin didn't hesitate to obey. He almost flew out of that hallway, leaving a gust of wind in his wake, as Azula raced toward them and hurled a vicious blast of fire in their direction.

Suki braced herself to hold Azula off and let Tenzin escape. Once again, she dodged the flames, using her fans to shield herself – but the already burnt skin on her arm and leg seared with almost unbearable pain at the close proximity of the relentless heat. She screamed again; her head throbbed and spun dizzily, and her stomach heaved, and she clenched her teeth in anguish. But quickly, Suki redirected all that pain into rage: a wild, focused, pulsing battle rage.

For too long – far, far too long – _years_, years of her life – Azula had been hunting her, making her life a nightmare –

Suki wasn't tired anymore. She wasn't hopeless anymore. She was just _angry_. Violently, murderously angry.

She ran to meet Azula, fans raised, roaring with fury. Azula threw another fireball at her, but Suki evaded it and swiped at Azula's head with her fans. Azula reeled back, losing her balance for a moment, and Suki swung again and again with ferocious energy, driving Azula backwards. Azula blocked Suki's arm with her own, and hit Suki's burnt leg with a swift kick. The pain hissed deep into her bones, and Suki howled in agony, stumbling back for a moment. She saw Azula raise her fist to launch a stream of fire directly into her face. Quickly, she ducked below the fire, and took out Azula's legs with a swift spinning kick. Azula fell to the ground with a grunt, and Suki lurched at her, more than ready to kill her. But Azula rolled out of the way of Suki's deadly fans, and the blades clattered and sparked on the metal floor, and Azula sprang nimbly to her feet behind her.

Suki whirled, prepared to dodge another firebending strike and to redouble her own attacks. But Azula didn't hit her again. Azula ran. She took off running down the hall. Going after Tenzin.

"_No!" _Suki roared savagely, racing after her and hurling her fans through the air. The first missed its mark, clanging uselessly off the wall, but the second managed to clip Azula on the arm, slicing her skin and drawing forth a stream of blood. Azula screamed and snarled with pain, clutching at her arm, but she kept running – she didn't even slow down.

Panting and seething and throbbing, Suki rushed after Azula, retrieving her fans as she went. But with her wounded leg, she couldn't keep pace with Azula this time, and soon the wild-haired phantom had vanished from sight once more.

Realizing that she'd lost Azula's trail, Suki stumbled to a halt, panting. Everything swam before her eyes, pulsing with her own violent heartbeat. The pain of her burns made her feel light-headed, and the consuming frustration of her rage made her feel inhuman. Azula must have seen that Suki was in the throes of some kind of berserk frenzy. She must have decided Suki was too dangerous to deal with at the moment. She was going after Tenzin. Suki breathed.

At last, her thoughts managed to sort themselves out into something logical.

_Zuko. Need to find Zuko. Need to find Tenzin. Find them both. Before Azula does_.

* * *

><p>As Zuko, Ashiro, and the other soldiers all frantically searched the ship's labyrinthine corridors – hoping to find Suki, Azula, Tenzin, <em>anyone<em> – out of nowhere, Tenzin tumbled out of a passage and pummeled straight into Zuko.

"Tenzin!"

"Zuko!"

Almost violently, Zuko snatched the boy up off the ground and crushed him in his arms, gasping painfully. His eyes welled with sharp tears of relief.

"Where _were _you?!" he demanded fiercely. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Azula!" Tenzin sputtered in a panic. "_Azula! _She's here! She's coming! We have to go! We have to get away! Hurry! Run!"

"Up to the deck!" Ashiro barked immediately. "Zuko – you and Tenzin, go!"

"But Aunt Suki – !" Tenzin cried.

"Where is she?" Zuko asked hastily.

"She was fighting Azula!" he stammered, beginning to sob. "Don't leave her by herself! Don't let her die!"

"Zuko, _go!_" Ashiro bellowed, with stern severity. "I'll find Suki! Just get out of here!"

"I can't just – !" Zuko began, but Ashiro cut him off.

"_Yes, you can!_" the young general roared, unconcerned about being insolent. "Take him up to the bridge and turn off the alarm! We'll be up there soon. Now go!"

Zuko would have argued – no one ever ordered him around – and he didn't want to leave, knowing Suki was down there somewhere, alone with Azula. But Tenzin – there was Tenzin – Tenzin needed to be safe, and Zuko was not going to let the boy out of his sight for a second, not again. And there was also something in Ashiro's voice, a fierce urgency, that was powerful in itself, that demanded immediate obedience.

So Zuko went. He took Tenzin, and he ran, followed by a couple of the soldiers, while the others stayed behind to help Ashiro retrieve Suki.

Zuko raced back through the many halls, up the many stairs, with Tenzin jostling in his arms, until they burst through a door and emerged once more into the openness of the top deck, near the stern. The raging hurricane battered them instantly. Raindrops sliced at their skin, and the wind tore at their hair and clothes brutally, almost lifting them off their feet in its force. The ship unleashed a miserable groan, and the slick metal deck tilted sideways, and Zuko almost slipped and fell. The ocean sprang up and rolled over the ship, as if trying to flip it over.

Tenzin clutched at Zuko's neck desperately, burying his face in his shoulder. Zuko held him tighter, squinting through the violent rain, as lightning tore through the sky. He turned to the left, towards the middle of the ship, to head for the bridge as quickly as possible.

"Keep your eyes open!" Zuko shouted at the soldiers behind him. "Be careful – watch your footing!"

But as he said this, racing around a corner, he stopped very suddenly in his tracks.

Azula was there – up on the deck with them – having come through a door nearer to the bow. And she was running toward them in the heavy rain, with blue flames surging from her hands and nostrils.

"_Back! _Get back!" Zuko screamed, spinning on his heels and stumbling back around the corner, just as a burst of blue fire came directly at him. He lost his balance and fell, and Tenzin hit the deck first, bashing his head painfully, and the ship careened. The heartless sea sent another wave crashing over the railing, pounding them all.

The soldiers tried to block Azula's path, launching streams of their own fire at her. But she leaped out of the way of their flames, bounding off the railing and nimbly springing over their heads and landing right at Zuko's feet.

Zuko kicked fiercely, hurling the most violent burst of flames he could muster at her, and hoisted himself back to his feet with just the strength of his legs. She dodged his kick, but slipped and stumbled as the ship lurched. Another wave crashed over the deck. Zuko pulled Tenzin quickly back up to his feet, standing protectively in front of him, while Tenzin wobbled dizzily, holding his head. The soldiers came after Azula, punching fireball after fireball at her, trying to drive her away from Zuko and Tenzin. She evaded their attacks, throwing her own blue fire viciously back at them. More soldiers, hearing the commotion, began to gather from around the ship.

Suddenly, Ashiro burst through the door that Zuko had come through moments before, followed by his other soldiers and Suki, who looked battered and savage with rage. The skin on her right arm and leg was boiling red, but she looked as if she were too intensely furious to even notice.

"Suki!" Zuko shouted. "Get Tenzin away! Both of you – get away from here! You're the ones she wants!"

"Look out!" she and Ashiro screamed simultaneously.

Zuko leaped backward, only barely dodging a fierce stream of blue fire. The soldiers had all been trying to corner Azula, to close in on her, but she'd managed to slip past them again and was now flying towards the others, with her eyes fixed greedily on Tenzin.

Suki reached for Tenzin, snatching him up by the arm, while Zuko and Ashiro rushed forward to meet Azula as she came. Zuko reached her first, splitting her streams of fire down the middle with his hands, throwing a flaming punch at her that forced her to duck and retreat. Meanwhile, the other soldiers were closing in behind her, and soon she was at the center of a circle of Firebenders, all holding nothing back in their attacks. Flames flew at her from all directions, but she managed to keep everyone at a distance with her own ferocious Firebending strikes. There was no precision to her attacks, no forethought – even though she had once been the most precise, calculated fighter Zuko had ever known. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel astonished – and aggravated – at how skillfully she managed to dodge all of their attacks. If it wasn't for the storm, they probably would have had her, but spiteful waves kept sweeping across the deck, drenching everyone and dousing their fire.

Lightning snapped viciously, and at last, Azula extricated herself from the closing circle of attackers, catching hold of a rope and swinging herself up into the ship's rigging. They all hurled fire desperately at the rigging, as she climbed higher and higher.

But Zuko turned and ran. He didn't bother trying to hit her. He knew what she was about to do. He raced back towards Tenzin and Suki –

Azula's fingers sparked with electricity. She turned, and her eyes locked themselves onto her two targets.

Zuko was ready. As the lightning flew from her fingertips, he stepped into its path and caught it in his own fingertips, allowing the energy to pass through his arms, into his stomach, and –

Then his eyes met Azula's. Hers gleamed with triumph. He went cold suddenly, realizing that he'd done exactly what she'd expected him to do.

Before he could finish redirecting the lightning, she flung a small, round object in their direction. It arched through the air, curving in the wind – it was going to land almost directly at Zuko's feet.

"Zuko!" he heard both Suki and Ashiro shout simultaneously, but it all happened too fast to think.

He released the lightning randomly into the air, too frantic to aim – too frantic to finish the process properly. The sharp, biting electricity seized his heart. He groaned with pain, and stumbled clumsily backwards. He saw Suki dragging Tenzin away in a panic. He saw Ashiro leaping in front of him, stirring up a wall of flames, as the bomb came down –

Then the small grenade hit the deck, and detonated, tossing everyone into the air.

Zuko and Ashiro were closest, and took the worst of the explosion, only partially protected by Ashiro's fire shield. They both landed heavily on the deck, far from where they'd been standing, brutally battered and burnt and riddled with shards of shrapnel. Many of the other soldiers were burnt and wounded as well, scattered all over the deck like toys flung willy-nilly around a room. Suki was thrown off her feet, bashing hard into the railing, and in the force of the explosion, Tenzin was ripped out of her hands. He tumbled away from her, screaming and grunting, slipping along the slick metal surface and frantically grabbing hold of the railing to stop himself from falling overboard.

There was a strange moment of silence, in the aftermath of the explosion, as everyone's ears rang and everyone's heads spun. The ship itself howled, as if it were in pain. The storm pounded and heaved relentlessly. A massive gash, like a wound, had been torn open in the deck.

For several seconds, all Zuko was aware of was pain.

He lay strewn on the deck, fighting just to breathe. He suddenly felt like a stranger in his own body. His eyelids fluttered. Everything around him seemed to be flickering in and out of existence. He himself was, too – his mind was fighting to escape his body, unable to bear the pain. His heart was palpitating with feeble desperation. The residual electricity from the lightning that he hadn't channeled correctly still jolted sharply in his chest, stabbing him. He was sure that his skin had been burned entirely off in the explosion, and he could feel shards of metal inside him that didn't belong there, boring into his flesh. But those felt like phantom wounds – like an injury someone else was feeling, or that he was only dreaming he felt. His bones shuddered; his nerves screamed and began to shut off. A creeping numbness came over him, beginning in his legs and traveling upward. His mind was fading away.

_No – get up – you're fine – you have to get up – _

But he couldn't. And as the smoke and the chaos settled, he saw a terrible image swimming fuzzily before his eyes, as if he were seeing it underwater.

Azula, grabbing Tenzin by the arms, lifting him off the ground.

Then, despite his own desperate efforts to get up and do something, Zuko slipped off into blackness.

* * *

><p>Suki grabbed the railing and pulled herself up, dizzy and disoriented, and the first thing she saw was Azula leaping down to the deck, scuttling across – not towards her, but towards the little boy that had been flung out of her arms when the bomb went off.<p>

"Tenzin!" she shrieked, her voice croaking and wavering. But she couldn't make herself move fast enough to stop it all from happening.

Another wave crashed over the deck, and Tenzin struggled to get up, to get away. But Azula caught him by the arm, teetering momentarily from the ship's swaying, then hastily took hold of both of his arms, twisting them behind his back and lifting him off the ground. He screamed and kicked and fought desperately against her, inhaling deeply to attempt another Airbending escape. But she'd learned his tricks, and quickly covered his mouth and nose with her hands, clutching him tightly around the abdomen to squeeze the air out of his lungs, keeping his arms pinned behind him. He squealed and grunted and kicked in frantic terror.

"Let him go!" Suki roared fiercely, raising her fans. The other soldiers, the ones who hadn't been too seriously wounded in the explosion, were gathering around as well, surrounding Azula, fists raised.

"What are you going to do?" she gasped, panting with exhaustion. She was backed against the railing, cornered, still bleeding profusely from her wounded arm. But she smirked faintly regardless. "You're not going to hit me. Not while I've got him!"

Everyone hesitated, still poised for attack. But Azula was right. They couldn't do anything; they couldn't hit her without hitting Tenzin.

No one moved, for several moments. They all just stood there – Azula against the railing, clutching Tenzin, and everyone else in a powerless, furious circle around her – breathing, staring each other down. Only Tenzin still moved, struggling to get free of Azula's hold.

And, as they all lingered in this impasse, the storm came very suddenly to a halt. The wind ceased to bellow, dying out in a single, jarring instant. The rain stopped falling. The ocean settled into a calm beneath them, and the ship drifted wearily. Silence fell over them, heavy and intense. They'd passed into the eye of the storm.

After a few tense seconds of thick silence and heavy breathing, Tenzin suddenly broke the stillness, somehow maneuvering himself into a position to bite Azula's hand. Which he did. _Hard_.

She let out a sharp yelp of pain, but didn't lose her grip on him, though he fought fiercely to wriggle out of her arms. Aggravated, she gave him a sharp blow to the head, knocking him senseless, and then she slipped out her knife, almost all in one swift motion.

"_NO!_" Suki thundered, and the soldiers all shouted various exclamations as well. Everyone leaped forward, to stop her – but they couldn't – it all happened in the blink of an eye –

For the briefest flash of an instant, Azula held the knife aloft –

In a heartbeat, the blade would have been on Tenzin's throat –

Except –

_Bang!_

An odd flying object appeared suddenly from nowhere, soaring through the air and striking the arm that held the knife, knocking it out of her fingers. Both the knife and the flying object clattered to the deck at Suki's feet, and Azula grunted in pain and surprise, eyes darting upward.

Suki's heart almost burst when she saw the object at her feet.

A boomerang.

Everyone looked up, searching the sky for the source of it. Suki immediately spotted the familiar white shape of Appa flying in the distance, drawing quickly nearer to them. The bison let out a loud bellow as they descended towards the ship, and she saw Sokka perched on his head with a fierce expression on his face.

"It's them!" Suki cried, almost erupting from pure, joyful relief. "They're here!"

Before Appa was close enough to the ship to land, a slender, black-haired figure leaped out of the saddle. She plummeted through the air, down to the ship, creating a crater in the metal deck as she landed, as if her petite body were made of heavy, dense metal itself. The ship jolted so powerfully at Toph's landing that everyone was nearly knocked off their feet.

Almost before anyone had a chance to realize what was happening, Toph turned and gripped the deck in both of her fists. A crumpling ripple shot out of her, jetting through the thick metal as effortlessly as if it were paper – straight at Azula, who was jostled violently against the railing when the tremor hit her.

This all happened in about a second, almost too quickly to process. But Azula's eyes flickered frantically, realizing she was hopelessly outmatched – and in a rush of mad desperation, she stumbled back and tossed Tenzin over the railing of the ship.

"_NO!_" everyone screamed – racing forward –

Then, as Appa hovered nearer, Suki saw another figure leap out of the saddle, plummeting into the water. Katara – leaping in after Tenzin. Katara swept her arms up as she fell, and the ocean swelled below her, reaching up to break her fall. She hit the water with a loud splash.

Then Appa landed heavily on the deck, making the entire ship rock with his weight. And before anyone had a chance to get their hands on Azula, she vaulted over the railing and threw herself overboard.

* * *

><p>Minutes before, when Appa had finally made it to the eye of the storm, the first thing everyone had seen down below was the ship. They'd thought it was an ordinary merchant ship at first, and Sokka had decided to let Appa land on it, hoping that the owners wouldn't mind.<p>

Then they'd all seen the flames flying wildly on the deck, and realized it was not, perhaps, an ordinary merchant ship after all. Drawing closer, they'd spotted the savage, wild-haired figure climbing in the rigging. They'd seen her lightning bolt, and after that, the explosion. It hadn't taken long for them to figure out what was happening.

And as they'd drawn lower, they'd all seen Azula grab Tenzin. Katara had almost leaped out of the saddle then – but Sokka had reacted first, launching his boomerang at Azula, with his usual dangerous accuracy. Then everything happened at once.

Katara hadn't even noticed Toph jump out of the saddle, but she'd watched her fall through the air and smash into the ship's deck.

And then she'd watched Azula – she'd watched Azula suddenly throw the small figure of her son over the railing. She'd watched Tenzin drop into the ocean.

Her entire body had gone cold and numb at the sight. Her breath exploded out of her. Her heart died with a scream of agony.

Almost unaware of what she was doing, she leaped out of the saddle after him, taking the long dive into the sea. Her chest blazed from the plummet, from the overwhelming fear. Hastily, she waved her arms and pulled the ocean up to catch her, to cushion her fall. But the icy cold water still hit her hard, knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment as her head submerged. She went down, down, propelled by the force of her fall, but quickly she launched herself back to the surface on a jet of water. Her head burst out of the waves, and she gasped for air, and saw Azula dive off the ship into the water as well.

Tenzin – Tenzin – Where was he? Where was Tenzin?

Katara took a deep breath and dove under, pushing herself forward through the water with rapid urgency, struggling to see in the murky darkness.

It was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours before she spotted him – the most terrible few seconds of her life. But there he was. She glimpsed his small figure, sinking into the depths, and she plunged after him frantically, reaching her arms forward and pulling him towards herself with the water around him. At last, she caught his arm – wrapped her own arms around him tightly – and propelled both of them back to the surface.

Inhaling as she emerged, she clutched Tenzin fiercely, holding his head above the water. He gasped and choked faintly. The sound of his feeble cough almost made her laugh and weep with relief. He was okay – he'd be okay.

But she'd forgotten Azula was still in the water with them.

Suddenly, something snatched at her legs, and before she had time to react they were both dragged back under the water again.

Azula grasped at them, shoving the two of them farther down in order to push herself up. Still holding Tenzin in one arm, Katara threw a powerful Waterbending punch directly into Azula's stomach. The water thundered from Katara's hand, as if launched from a cannon, and hurled Azula violently away from them. Katara and Tenzin burst back to the surface again, just in time to see Azula go under briefly, then claw her way back to the surface, gasping painfully.

Then, Azula's eyes met Katara's, and her savage amber gaze sparked with fierce hatred.

Burning with overwhelming fury, Katara raised her free arm – still holding firmly on to Tenzin with the other – and swept a barrage of brutal waves at Azula, doing all in her power to pummel the life out of the vile creature who'd tried to kill her son. Azula fought to get away from Katara's attacks, fought to get enough air between waves. But Katara was unforgiving and relentless – Azula didn't deserve any mercy, not at this point.

Then, suddenly, Azula went under, and didn't come back up again. She was gone.

Without stopping to wonder whether or not she'd actually killed her, Katara waved her arm, and she and Tenzin launched out of the sea on a spiral of water. The water spout arched high into the air, lifting them both up and setting them down safely on the deck of the ship. And there, Katara let it settle with a loud splash, kneeling hurriedly to attend to her son.

* * *

><p><em>Where d… e go?...<em>

… _id you kill her, Kata…?_

Zuko's mind fought to regain consciousness. Voices blurred and blundered off of one another inside of his numbly throbbing skull.

… _zin… Tenzin… He's okay…_

_Momma…?_

… _ain, baby… scared… it's o…_

… _knew you'd c…!_

He sank into nothingness again for a few seconds, only re-emerging when he heard his own name being shouted frantically.

… _as a bomb and… Zuko! Where's Zuko?..._

… _Daddy! Look, h…!_

… _No! Oh… Zu… o, no, no!... ou alive? … se be alive!..._

… _e dead? He's g… dying! No! No!..._

… _Urs… op! Get away!..._

… _son! Zuko, no!... mercy! Do someth… save him!..._

… _uko, wake up! Please, wake up! Zuko, can you hear me? Please be alive! Zuko!_

He suddenly became aware that someone was touching his face. Two hands – holding his face – turning it up towards the sky.

A beautiful, soothing coldness surged through his veins suddenly. Flowing from the hands touching his face.

A hazy image gathered itself together in his eyes. Grey clouds. Eerie greenish darkness everywhere. Katara's eyes. Katara, kneeling above him, staring at him with a panicked look on her face. It was her voice that was begging him to be alive. It was her hands that he felt on his face. There was a glowing light coming from them – he felt it in his peripheral vision – it seemed to be the source of the refreshing cool stream that flowed through his body.

He thought he must really be dying. He was hallucinating. She couldn't really be there. She was supposed to be in the North Pole. He must just be so desperate to see her again that his mind was tricking him –

"Zuko!" she was calling him. Her voice clattered like gentle bells in his head. It sounded just like her – just the way she sounded in real life. "Wake up! Zuko, hold on – don't give up! Come on!"

"Katara," he tried to say, but his voice only made a feeble scraping sound in his throat. He wanted to tell her that he was glad to see her, but words weren't quite working for him at the moment.

"Did he say something?" he heard another voice ask, from somewhere close by and far away. It was a voice straight out of his memories, soft and velvet and comforting – though it sounded wild with panic at the moment.

"Zuko, can you see me?" Katara asked anxiously. "Say something!"

"I'm…" he began, trying very hard. He was beginning to see other people now, gathered around behind Katara. There was Toph, and Sokka and Suki. Tenzin was there – he was okay. That other Airbender was there, too. And there was Uncle, and his mom, and Ursa, and Momo.

And his mom.

His mom. Sitting beside Katara, staring at him, with her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with terror, brimming with tears. _His mom._

Yeah, he was definitely dying.

His eyes were tricking him. That had to be it. Tricking him into believing that everyone he wanted to see, everyone he most cared about in the world was there, gathered round him. He figured it was probably just his mind's way of softening the blow, easing him into death kindly. That was nice. He wondered why Mai wasn't there, too. And Aang. Maybe they were around there somewhere, and he just couldn't see them.

"Zuko, hang in there!" Katara ordered him fiercely. He saw she was crying, and wanted to tell her it was okay, but he still couldn't make himself speak. "Don't give up, all right? You're gonna be okay!"

"Zuko, sweetheart," his mom said, leaning over him and brushing his hair away from his face. "It's me! Can you hear me?"

"Mom…" his voice rasped unintelligibly.

"Keep fighting!" she cried, sobbing. "Don't give up! You'll make it. You always do! Just hold on, okay? I love you!"

Then the voices were smothered into silence, and the faces faded from his sight, and Zuko – unable to stop himself – slipped away again, sinking into a faintly happy kind of oblivion.

* * *

><p><em>*Gasp* Phew, man. I am just exhausted! What a chapter.<em>

_Anyway, I _really_ hate to do this to everyone, considering how this chapter ended… but, I'm afraid I've got a ton of work to catch up on in real life, so the next chapter might not come for a while. I'm sorry! _:( _But I will certainly be working on it whenever I have free time, so hopefully it won't be _too _long of a wait. _:)


	30. Eight Hours After

_Right, so I might have called this one "Precarious Balancing Act: the Chapter" – because that's pretty much what it is. The whole thing. A huge cast of characters, all having some very intricate emotional issues, all together in one place... Hooray! And much of this chapter had to be handled __very__ delicately, like nitroglycerin, or else it might accidentally make the story explode... This is also by far the longest chapter so far, mostly because there was A LOT that needed to be dealt with here before moving on. _

_So, as you might have guessed, this one was difficult to write, but in a totally different way than the previous one. _^_^

_However, tricky emotional issues are pretty much my favorite thing to write (well, one of them), so I definitely had a delightful time sorting through all the complexities. _:) _But that was part of why it took me a while to get this one out... Also, because it's long. And also, y'know, because of all that other silly stuff I had to do, like grading papers and reading books for class and stuff... Blah. School. Why did I want to go to school again?__  
><em>

_Anyway. If I could pick one word to describe this chapter, it would probably be "melancholy." Though it's not ALL sad. Maybe "complicated" would work better. Or "ambiguous"… is there a word that means all three? *grabs thesaurus* No, I guess not. Well, then! I'll just have to invent a word: "comelanbiguated." Yeah, that's it!_

_Anyway, hopefully it's just the right amount of comelanbiguated-ness, and not too much angst._

Aang: "Huh? Did you say something to me?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "No, I said 'angst,' not Aang… <em>st<em>."  
>Aang: "Oh-h-h-h… Gotcha. Nice big made-up word, by the way. Comelanbiguated. I think I'm gonna start using that." :)<br>Rain&Roses: "You totally should! Let's make it a thing! It's bound to catch on, right?" :D

* * *

><p><strong>EIGHT HOURS AFTER<strong>

_FIRST HOUR (MIDNIGHT)_

A light drizzle was falling now. It sprinkled the deck of the ship, rather kindly, rather abashedly, as if the weather were trying to apologize for its previous vicious outburst.

Perched on the ship's railing, Momo shook himself; his white fur ruffled unbecomingly. All was dark – the deep quiet of night lay thick and heavy over the ocean, yet no one was sleeping. No one except Appa. He lay snoring at the far end of the stern, all six of his great legs sprawled carelessly. Momo sprang into the air and flew over to the bison, landing on his head. Appa didn't stir. Momo crawled down and tried to lift one of his great eyelids open, chattering anxiously at him to wake up. But Appa's heavy eyelid just fell shut again, and Momo lost his balance and tumbled to the deck.

With an indignant chirp, Momo scrambled up to a more dignified position and glared at Appa, ears twitching. But Appa just slept on; he didn't care. Sleep was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Tenzin, who was wrapped up in a thick blanket and nestled between two of Appa's great legs, quietly watched Momo's efforts to wake the sleeping bison. Ordinarily, he would probably have laughed at Momo, or at least smiled; but at the moment he was too tired and miserable to do anything but watch. Momo soon spotted him and hastily scurried over, climbing onto the boy's lap and prattling impatiently at him.

"You know I can't understand you, right, Momo?" Tenzin said.

Momo, apparently coming to this same conclusion on his own, gave up in frustration and skittered away, leaving Tenzin wondering vaguely what the lemur would say, if he could speak human language.

Down the length of the dark, drizzly stern, a makeshift infirmary had been set up, to care for the people who'd been wounded in the fight with Azula – particularly those who'd been hurt when the bomb went off. Sheltered in a long, narrow recess beneath a thick metal sheet folded over from the deck (Toph's handiwork, naturally), over a dozen soldiers were all laid out in a row, covered in blankets. Zuko lay at one end – still clinging to life, but feverish and unconscious – with General Ashiro beside him, who was in almost as bad shape as he was. Beyond the infirmary, almost at the exact center of the great open deck, the large jagged gash torn open by Azula's bomb lay exposed.

Momo made his way quickly past all the wounded patients, careful not to step on any of them (he'd been scolded earlier), making a beeline towards Sokka, who was kneeling beside Katara, who was kneeling by one of the soldiers, spreading her healing water through the man's body. Momo ran up to Sokka and tugged on his sleeve insistently, with a stream of chattering complaints.

"Not now, Momo," Sokka muttered, shooing him away.

Discouraged, Momo ran off to find Suki, but she was in the process of changing out peoples' blankets and pretending that her burns weren't bothering her, so her reaction was pretty much the same as Sokka's.

"Momo – don't bother me right now," she grumbled, trying not to wince. "Go entertain yourself somewhere else."

And so Momo, anxious for company but out of luck, wandered listlessly over to the great hole in the middle of the deck, perching at the edge and staring down to the floor below. Toph's voice echoed up from somewhere down there, barking orders at people. Momo scratched behind his ear and fidgeted irritably.

"Hey Momo," said Yonten, who had been observing the lemur for a few minutes. "You want something to eat? Here."

The Airbender tossed a couple of leechi nuts his way, and Momo snatched them up, nibbling eagerly, suddenly forgetting why he'd been irritated in the first place.

* * *

><p><em>SECOND HOUR<em>

Sokka's eyes darted from Katara, kneeling beside him, to Suki, who wandered among the wounded soldiers further down the deck, still struggling to hide the pain of her burnt arm and leg.

Not for the first time in his life, Sokka cursed whatever force in the universe had decided to not make him a Waterbender. Sixteen people needed healing – including Zuko, who was in worse shape than all of them – but Katara was the only healer around. Sokka was doing his best to help, but he felt mostly useless. He couldn't _do _anything. Only Katara. She had to do everything herself. They were all depending on her.

He watched his sister carefully, as she maneuvered the healing water over one of the wounded soldiers, removing shards of shrapnel from his legs and closing up the wounds. She looked utterly exhausted, and he could tell she was impatient – anxious to get back to their quest, anxious to fix everyone quickly and move on – but too careful and too caring to do a shoddy job.

_What time is it now?_ Sokka wondered, feeling anxious himself. _What day is it?_

It was still dark – and unless they were all even more exhausted than they thought, the sun couldn't have come up yet and gone down again without them noticing. It must only have been a couple of hours since they'd landed, since Azula had disappeared...

So why did Sokka feel like _days_ were passing them by? Days, weeks, moving along heartlessly – slipping through their fingers like grains of sand – unwilling to wait for them to catch up.

How much time did Aang have left?

Sokka didn't know off the top of his head. But every second that passed felt like it brought the deadline a whole day closer. How long now until he was beyond their reach forever? How long until he was just _gone_, and all this was for nothing? It made Sokka itch and squirm uneasily. It made him stir with the despairing nausea of failure – the dreadful horror of making one of those rare, disastrous blunders that can never be taken back. He had to keep convincing himself that they still had time, but his impatient worry made him feel as if they should have been at the North Pole _today_. Or _yesterday_.

He wondered how Katara was feeling about it. He wondered if she was even thinking about it now, or if she'd buried those thoughts away for the moment, unable to handle them.

Almost without thinking, Sokka looked away from Katara. He glanced over his shoulder towards Appa, at the little boy who sat tucked away between the sleeping bison's legs. Still there. Tenzin was still where he was supposed to be. Good.

Then he glanced in the other direction, at Suki, who limped and grimaced at every step she took. He kept watching her for a few minutes, stirring with sharp concern and frustration that she wouldn't sit down and rest until Katara had a chance to take a look at her burns. And he kept watching her – simmering with something else too – a strange giddy gratefulness for her existence that felt too light and happy, out of place in the current grim situation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see her, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. So when she glanced back in his direction, he turned his eyes quickly back to Katara.

Then Suki watched him for a few minutes, also stirring with a strange out-of-place, bittersweet happiness that she wasn't sure how to deal with. But she kept her own small smile to herself, for now.

* * *

><p><em>THIRD HOUR<em>

Iroh sat near Zuko, watching him steadily. Now and then Zuko shuddered or muttered something, but his mind never fully returned to wakefulness. He'd been badly burnt over his entire body; his right arm had been dislocated. Katara had reset his arm and removed the shrapnel lodged in his flesh, but she hadn't been able to finish completely healing him yet, with all the other injured people who also needed her attention. On top of his injuries from the explosion, Zuko's heart was still suffering from the improperly channeled lightning bolt. But it was beating, and that was all that mattered right now.

For the second time in Iroh's life, he felt himself watching a son's life slip away.

Katara promised that Zuko wasn't going to die; she'd been reassuring them all that he would live, that he was not in a fatal condition at the moment, even though he refused to wake up. But still, Iroh couldn't go too near to Zuko at the moment. He couldn't speak, and he couldn't touch him, or be too close. As if Zuko was a fire, and if Iroh sat too close he would be burned. Or worse – as if he'd be able to feel the fire going out, slowly and feebly, dying into faint embers.

But Zuko's mother was holding him. She'd been holding him, with his head in her lap – like he was a child again – clutching his hand gently and just gazing at his face. Iroh watched her too; he watched them both in silence. He hadn't said a word for the past few hours since they'd landed on the ship.

Ursa was humming quietly – almost instinctively – a lullaby she remembered from her own mother, one she'd sung to both Zuko and Azula when they were infants. Her free hand absentmindedly brushed through the hair around her son's forehead.

Elsewhere, the younger Ursa – wandering the deck in something of a daze – stumbled across the knife that had fallen from Azula's hand when Sokka had hit her with the boomerang. She picked the knife up quietly, tears welling in her eyes, and just stared at it for a moment, carefully gliding her fingers across the familiar inscription on the blade.

Rather solemnly, the little girl made her way back over to her father and sat down beside him, staring at him. She held the knife out for Zuko to see, even though his eyes were closed.

"I, um… I found your knife, dad," she said softly. "I thought I lost it, but it's here. See? 'Never give up without a fight,' remember?"

She choked a little bit, but swallowed back her tears bravely. Uncle saw her fingers trembling.

"Here," she said to Zuko after a moment. "You can keep it until you feel better." Then she set the knife carefully down beside him and didn't say anything else.

After a moment, Uncle held his hand out to her, and she crawled over and let him wrap his familiar, comforting arms around her. They all still said nothing: there was nothing to say. But the elder Ursa kept humming her lullaby. And Little Ursa, looking away from the sight of her father, buried her face in Uncle's chest and allowed herself to shed a few solemn tears, and felt a little – just a little bit – better afterward.

* * *

><p><em>FOURTH HOUR<em>

Pulling his blanket tighter around himself and leaning deeper back into Appa's warm fur, Tenzin watched everyone dismally through heavy eyelids. The rain drizzled and drizzled, and he blinked against the drops that dangled from the ends of his hair and fell into his eyes. He sniffled, and he shivered, despite the thick blanket he was wrapped in and despite Appa's warmth.

He watched his mother, as she went to each injured person, saving everyone. She'd also been checking up on him constantly while she healed all the wounded people – asking him every five minutes if he was okay, even though he always said he was, and he didn't see why she needed to keep asking. He wasn't _going _anywhere; he wasn't _doing _anything. What made her think that the second she took her eyes off him, he'd suddenly go from "fine" to "not fine" for no reason at all, just because she wasn't looking?

He wished mournfully that she could just stop working and come sit with him for a while. It would make him feel better; and he thought it would probably make her feel better too. He thought she probably wished she could come sit down with him. He thought she looked tired – _really _tired. He wondered if she wanted to take a break, and felt sorry that she couldn't, because she had to save everyone.

What if she was too tired to save Avatar Aang, after saving everyone else? That was the most horrible idea Tenzin could think of at the moment – that she'd change her mind about saving him, that she would be too tired to do it. That – after being _so close _to finally having his long-lost father back – Tenzin would have to spend the rest of his life the same way he'd spent the beginning of it: half an orphan. Fatherless.

Tenzin looked at all the hurt people, the people who needed to be saved – the people who were keeping his mother from saving his father, like she should have been doing – all lined up in a row to have their turn at being healed. Tenzin knew that there were more than ten of them, but he always got mixed up when he tried to count over eleven or twelve by himself, so he wasn't sure exactly how many had been hurt. There were a lot, though. And Zuko was far away, at the other end.

_Zuko's going to die._

Tenzin kept thinking that. He trusted his mother to save Zuko – or he thought he did, at least – but he couldn't shake the idea. Zuko was going to die. He kept thinking about it, even though it made him feel sick to his stomach. He just couldn't help it. The idea of death consumed him.

He thought about how close he'd come to dying himself. He thought about how he could be dead, right now. He could imagine it, but couldn't comprehend it. And he shivered again, more fiercely.

One of the other soldiers had died earlier, just a couple of hours ago. He'd had a piece of metal stuck in his heart. When he died, they'd carried his body away somewhere else.

Tenzin didn't know what they'd done with him, but he'd understood that the man was dead. After Uncle Sokka and Yonten had carried the dead man away, Tenzin had watched his mother extra closely. He thought that she'd started to look even more tired, and more frantic, and more angry than before, and he knew it was because she didn't get to save the man who died. The man had died too fast, before she had a chance, and she was all by herself. She couldn't do everything.

She couldn't do everything.

That was a strange new concept to Tenzin, and he was still having some difficulty wrapping his mind around it: _she couldn't do everything_.

It made the world feel smaller, harder and meaner. It made him sad to think about it. It made him think, again... Maybe Zuko was going to die. And maybe Avatar Aang would never be saved. Maybe she couldn't do everything.

Tenzin cried a little at all these thoughts, but he kept to himself. He didn't want to bother any of the grown-ups. He watched them, and was aware that they were all watching _him_ too. Every few minutes, Uncle Sokka or Aunt Suki or someone would dart their eyes in his direction, making sure he was still there, where he was supposed to be. He thought they must all be worried that he'd run off again, and that made him feel sorry too. _Really _sorry. No one understood how sorry he was. He cried a little more about that, to himself – cried because no one understood. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he was too tired to really cry that much anyway. Mostly he just sat there, silent, watching, not moving, hoping that the more he continued to stay put, the less they'd all stare at him in that distrustful way.

He shivered again, and sneezed.

"Are you cold, Tenzin?"

The boy glanced up at Yonten, whose shadow now fell over him. He nodded with a melancholy sniffle.

Yonten knelt down before him, with a quiet smile. "You know, I know an Airbending trick to help you feel less cold. I could teach it to you, if you want."

"How could Airbending make me not feel cold?" Tenzin asked, sniffling again and frowning with incredulity.

"It's a special breathing technique," Yonten explained. "It's not hard to do. I learned to do it when I was about your age, actually. Would you like to learn?"

The cold sent another profound chill through the little Airbender's body. He nodded again.

* * *

><p>Katara's hands moved the healing water through the body of the soldier lying before her. His expression transformed from pained to peaceful and grateful. But Katara, though she knew exactly what she was doing as she healed him, was not entirely there.<p>

A part of her mind – a growing fog that lurked beyond the borders of her consciousness, seeping slowly over into the wakeful parts – carried her away, removed her from the situation. She was walking, healing, speaking, almost without conscious effort, as if she were in a trance. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly, fighting to stay open, but a distant glaze kept veiling them, and most of the time now Katara seemed to be staring at something that was not in front of her, but always just beyond her sight.

She finished healing the soldier – for the moment, at least – and removed her hands, to move on to the next patient.

"Thank you," he said. But she didn't respond, or even hear. She was there, but she was elsewhere.

Time was moving rapidly around her, without her. She kept thinking. Thinking about time. How much time did...?

No. She wasn't going to think. She wasn't going to think about –

She was thinking about Zuko. That's who it was that occupied her thoughts: Zuko. That was who she wanted to focus all her healing on at the moment. Her heart stirred with something – worry. Worry, fear, terror. For Zuko. Because after the fight, when she'd first seen him lying there on the deck, battered and burnt, she'd thought he was already dead. And something inside her had died a little as well.

She hadn't expected it to hurt so much. The thought of losing Zuko. She hadn't expected...

What was she thinking about?

She didn't know. Zuko still wasn't awake – he still wasn't talking. He still hadn't managed to come back to life, to look at her and _see _her, and recognize her, and say something to her. He was still elsewhere, too, and she couldn't bring him back.

She couldn't bring him back. Maybe it was too late. Maybe it was all meaningless.

What was the last thing she'd said to him, the last time they'd talked, before all this chaos happened? Had she said anything? She'd tried to get out of saying good-bye to him. She'd been afraid – afraid to talk to him, afraid to say good-bye. She'd assumed that it wouldn't be the last time they ever talked. She'd assumed that nothing would happen, to either of them. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so cold to him? And even when he'd kissed her – no, he'd _tried _to kiss her, that was it, and she hadn't let him. Then what? He'd said – she couldn't remember – he'd said,

_See you soon, Katara. I love you_.

No. No, no, wait – Zuko hadn't said that. That wasn't Zuko. That was what... in the South Pole... that was the last thing Aa –

But she wasn't thinking about _him._ She wasn't thinking about that. No. _No. _She wasn't going to think. Not right now. She couldn't. She couldn't bear it.

Her hand, of its own free will, strayed into her pocket and touched the betrothal necklace. Her fingers curled around it, grasping it fiercely. She breathed, slowly.

What day was it now? Was it the Solstice? Was it the day after the Solstice?

Did it even matter anymore?

Katara's eyes burned with tears – they attacked her suddenly, from out of nowhere, and she scoured them away violently. Why was she so upset? What was she crying about? Why did it feel like her heart was shattering into a million pieces?

She knew why. But she didn't. She refused to know. She refused to think about the person she _wasn't_ saving right now, the person she wished more than anything were here, the person whose necklace her fingers almost crushed in their desperate grip. She distracted herself with the people she _was _saving, the ones she had to save right now – the ones who'd been hurt. They all needed her. Especially Zuko. _Especially _Zuko. She had to save him. She couldn't do anything else. If Zuko didn't...

Her thoughts halted themselves abruptly, doing a desperate about-face. No. Zuko would be fine. He would. _He would_. She just had to keep an eye on him, that was all. She just had to keep on trying to fix him. He'd make it.

Why did it hurt so much, to think that he might not? Of course, she cared about Zuko. They all did. Of course it would hurt. But this – she was astonished at herself, and bewildered. Nothing had hurt her this terribly, in this particular kind of way, since...

See – that was it. That was the problem. It wasn't really how deeply it hurt. It was the _way _it hurt – the particular brand of grief. A type of grief she'd only ever reserved for – for – for the person she was not thinking about right now.

Katara was troubled. Profoundly troubled. Her deepest inner self felt like it was splitting apart – trying to separate into two Kataras, and she didn't know why.

Her eyes fixed themselves instinctively on the figure of her son, still sitting next to Appa, still where he was supposed to be. Good. She longed to go sit next to him, to just be still and hold him for a long time. But she couldn't. Not right now. She was the healer – everyone needed her. _Everyone _needed her. She had to put aside her Mother-Self at the moment, to be the healer, to fix everyone. Fracturing herself yet more, for the sake of everyone else.

But she still yearned to just sit with Tenzin – sit quietly and rest – and wrap him up in her arms, and assure him that she'd never leave him again.

_But that's a lie, isn't it?_ she thought with bitter despair._ I _am _going to leave him again. I was on my way to the North Pole to do just that. And I'm not coming back. Just like Aa – just like my dreams said. Once I leave him I'll never come back, and he'll be all alone. Completely alone._

She couldn't stop seeing him falling, falling into the sea, being swallowed by the apathetic waves. She saw it again and again, whenever she closed her eyes. She couldn't stop seeing him sink into the dark depths of the ocean, small and helpless and alone.

And even beyond that – beyond _all _of that – she was troubled, troubled, troubled. Plagued with some deep, subconscious discomfort that she didn't fully understand. Because she was _too_ worried – too worried about Zuko. She was yearning _too_ much for him to wake up and talk to her. She was hurting too much, in the wrong way, about the idea that he might not wake up. She was too desperate to heal him – she kept returning to Zuko more than anyone else. Zuko was consuming her attention too much.

But that was all ridiculous. Why did she think that? Why did she feel so guilty about worrying? It didn't make any sense. Why did she feel that it was wrong somehow, that she wasn't supposed to be worrying like this, in this particular way?

Someone had died earlier. Someone had died while she was taking care of Zuko. Because she'd allowed her own personal bias to decide who got healed first, who got saved first. And someone had died because of it. Because of _her_.

It was even more than that, though...

It was the fact that she could feel the time going by – she could feel the rush of its cruel movement. But she was still here – still here on this ship – not going anywhere. And she was worrying about Zuko, and all the while she was hurting and hurting because of... the other person who still needed to be saved. The one she'd come all the way out here intending to save, but _wasn't_ saving at the moment. The one she couldn't bear to think about right now, as the time flew viciously by. She squeezed the necklace harder.

_Traitor_.

That word was haunting her. She felt like a traitor.

But why? What was she doing that was so wrong? How was she doing anything at all treacherous?

Because she was saving Zuko first, before she moved on to save _him_?

But that wasn't fair. Of course she had to save Zuko first. His situation was a bit more critical at the moment. Besides – Zuko was actually _here_, in front of her. It was a lot easier to save him first.

She didn't understand herself. But above all, she was just _tired_. Thoroughly, unbearably tired. She hadn't slept, and she had to do everything on her own. And all her inner troubles were wearing her out even more than the outer ones – especially the troubles she didn't understand.

She just needed a quick break. She needed to check on Tenzin. As long as Tenzin was okay, then everything else would be too. She just needed a rest – a short respite, to gather her strength again. Maybe she'd even allow herself to rest a bit longer than usual this time. But not much longer. A few extra seconds, at the most. People needed her. Zuko needed her. She couldn't waste time.

Glancing across the deck towards Tenzin, she saw Yonten kneeling by him, gesturing with his hands, while Tenzin scrunched his nose in concentration, inhaling and exhaling methodically.

She blinked. For a strange instant, she imagined that it wasn't Yonten kneeling there, but – but – _h__im _– talking to his son, to _their_ son – teaching Tenzin some Airbending trick, maybe.

A heavy, icy grief settled swiftly into her bones, and she sighed, shutting her eyes to quickly dismantle the illusion.

"Hey, Aa – _Tenzin_," she stammered, shaking her head violently at her near slip of the tongue. She blushed, and hurriedly stumbled to cover her tracks. "Uh – how are you doing? Are you okay?"

He let out a puff of air, gazing up at her simply. "Yeah, I'm still the same as before. You just asked me not that long ago, Momma."

She frowned, rather injured by that reply – probably more injured than she should have been, actually. She knew Tenzin hadn't meant any harm by it; he just hadn't thought about it. He didn't know how she would take it. But she was exhausted, and feeling more defensive and sensitive than usual.

"I just wanted to make sure," she said softly, with a touch of pain in her voice. "I care about you, that's all. You know that, right?"

"I know," he answered, looking a little sheepish, sensing her injury. "It's okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Yonten watched the two of them wordlessly – he seemed unsure whether he should stay or leave.

Finally, after a moment's hesitation, Katara sat herself down beside Tenzin and wrapped her arms around him, releasing a heavy, fatigued sigh. "What were you two talking about?"

Tenzin suddenly gave her a small smile. "Yonten was teaching me to keep warm by breathing! It's really easy."

"He was?" Katara also smiled, wearily but genuinely. "Did you already get the hang of it?"

"Yeah! It works, too." He breathed in slowly, thinking very carefully about it, and then let it out with controlled focus.

"Keep practicing," Yonten nodded quietly at Tenzin. "Soon it'll come so easily, you won't even think about it. And then you'll be able to stay warm anywhere – even in the North Pole. You won't even need a coat." He paused, glancing at Katara, and grinned a bit. "Though, your mother might make you wear a coat anyway."

Katara watched Tenzin breathing beside her, and then looked at Yonten, giving him a tired but grateful smile. She was sorry that she'd been so angry at him before, about the other Air Nomads. She was sorry for blaming him. But she couldn't make herself speak at the moment, to tell him so. She just hoped that he knew.

Everything in her was hurting, for many reasons – some of which, of course, had nothing to do with Tenzin or Yonten. But some did. She looked at Tenzin, and hurt because of how close – how _horribly_ close – she knew she'd come to losing him forever. How lucky she was to be able to put her arms around him now and listen to his breathing. And she did listen to his breathing, with all her heart, and something else in her hurt as well. Something hard to define, but she ached deeply with it. She ached because... because... because?

_Aang could have taught Tenzin that breathing trick._

Yes. Because of that. Maybe.

And, maybe, because now she'd allowed herself to think about Aang, and her weary mind immediately began to run off with her. Remembering and remembering - with unbridled, overwrought energy. Aang was always warm. Aang had never worn a coat, anywhere, even during the South Pole's most bitter winter nights. Even the first day she'd met him, he'd run blithely around the South Pole in just his light Air Nomad clothing, while she and Sokka had been bundled up in their parkas, like normal people. She remembered asking him once – who knew when that was? – how he didn't freeze to death. It must have been early on, when they were young. She remembered trying to force him to dress warmer a few times in the South Pole, accusing him of just being a show off when he ran off into the snow without so much as a pair of gloves – even barefoot, sometimes. It didn't bother him. Though he _had _conceded to wear a hat one winter. But he hadn't worn it to keep his bald head warm. He'd worn it just because she'd made it for him. He did things like that.

And now she was just thinking about Aang in general – just himself. She'd let the thoughts in, and they swamped her. She saw him vividly in her mind, a million different times, in a million different places. And she recalled the feeling of sitting by him, leaning against him, letting him put his arms around her. How comfortingly warm he always was.

She imagined traveling to the North Pole, but with Tenzin and Aang – not because of any desperate, hopeless mission, but just because they could. Or maybe going back to the South Pole with the two of them, to visit her family again. And yes, she thought – Yonten was right. She probably _would _make Tenzin put on a coat, no matter how much he claimed not to need it. But if Aang was there, she imagined, and things were the way they should have been, Tenzin would probably run straight to Aang to ask his opinion on the matter. She could hear it already:

_Daddy, do I _have _to wear a coat outside? Do I _have _to, really?_

And she knew Aang would probably see no problem at all in allowing Tenzin to roam around in the arctic without a coat, and then Tenzin would fly out into the snow half-naked, declaring in triumph that Daddy said it was okay. And then Katara would pretend to be annoyed at Aang for disregarding her authority. And then Aang would probably do something stupid and sweet so that she wasn't able to be annoyed anymore, even if she wanted to be. Because he did things like that. And it would all be so... so...

_Normal._

That was what she wanted. Normal. To be normal, with Aang and Tenzin.

Katara wished – _yearned _– to just once have the pleasure of being annoyed at Aang for letting Tenzin get away with something. It was a strange thing to wish for. But she _did _wish for it, with all her strength. And she felt every inch of her hurting, because she was beginning to think she might not ever, ever have that pleasure, or that normalcy. It felt far beyond her grasp, limited only to the realm of her tired imagination.

But that was only one of the many things that were hurting her right now.

She suddenly realized that she was clutching the betrothal necklace so ferociously that the muscles in her hands were aching. She relaxed, but just a little; she didn't let go of the necklace. The necklace that represented everything – all the normalcy and peace she could have had – _Aang_ himself. Everything she'd let slip through her fingers once before. Everything that felt like it was slipping through her fingers again, for the last time.

She was just so tired.

But she couldn't rest anymore. People needed her. Zuko needed her. She had to save Zuko. She'd save Zuko first, and wouldn't think about Aang anymore. Not now – she just couldn't handle it right now. She had to fix Zuko. She _needed _Zuko to be okay. If he wasn't... if he wasn't.

She wasn't sure she could handle that either.

And there, again, was that terrible troubled feeling she didn't understand.

_Traitor_.

Katara was startled at herself. What was wrong with her? Why was that word plaguing her? She wasn't betraying anyone. She was just doing her best – that was all.

So she kissed Tenzin, and thanked Yonten, and went back to Zuko, still holding the necklace tightly in her pocket, trying with every step not to think about the person she didn't believe she was betraying.

Yet still, with every step, she _did _think about him, helplessly. And with every step she took nearer to Zuko, she felt herself getting farther from Aang, and her thoughts scourged her.

_Traitor. Traitor. Traitor._

* * *

><p><em>FIFTH HOUR<em>

Toph was down below, deep inside the ship, with several of Ashiro's soldiers following her tentatively.

She stepped gingerly. Breathed carefully. Listened. Waited, and listened.

The great disarray of the ship's many vibrations rippled through her feet, into her bones and muscles and nerves. She let her bare feet drift over the cold metal floor, building a picture in her mind.

A deep uneasiness wrestled in her gut.

A crawling suspicion lurked in her mind.

She'd hoped – everyone had hoped – that perhaps Azula was gone, _really _gone. That perhaps Katara had beaten her for good. That perhaps she hadn't managed to just disappear, to climb back on board the ship when they weren't looking.

But Toph had felt uneasy about it from the start. She just had a bad feeling.

It was too easy.

And now – now, as she searched deep within the ship, backed up by some of Ashiro's uninjured soldiers – she kept on imagining that she saw something. Or she thought that she'd _seen _something: a phantom figure, slipping aboard somewhere near the anchor. But when they'd gone down there to look, there was nothing there. And Toph couldn't see anything suspicious anymore.

Yet even still – here, and elsewhere around the ship – there'd been glimpses. Or teasing imaginary glimpses of glimpses, of... something?

Toph wasn't sure, though. That was the problem. She was focusing all her energy upon Metalbending, on creating a clear picture in her head of every inch of the ship, every nook and cranny. But there were a lot of people on board, and a lot of other various movements and vibrations going on. And, of course, the ship was just _big_. Aggravatingly big. It was almost impossible for Toph, acute as her senses were, to get a perfectly clear picture of the more distant areas, no matter how she focused. And the glimpses that she thought she saw – the shadows of a ghost haunting the ship – those only came in spurts, barely perceptible, and scattered illogically. She couldn't understand it. If it _was _Azula, how was she avoiding being seen? How was she doing that? How could she possibly trick Toph's senses that way?

Since Toph had had almost no contact with Azula before – especially compared to the others – she'd initially assumed that Azula perhaps didn't even _know _about her particular method of seeing, and so would give herself away without even realizing that she had. But now Toph was starting to wonder if perhaps Azula _did _know about her Metalbending sight after all, and was somehow hiding from it. Azula seemed to know _everything_, somehow.

She must certainly have at least remembered Toph's bragging about her ability to detect lies, one of the few times they'd met on the Day of Black Sun years ago. Azula might have deduced that Toph saw and felt everything through Earthbending, and also – by extension – Metalbending.

Or, perhaps, she'd just picked up the information during her five years of spying on everyone.

But – Toph frowned. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Who ever said it was Azula? Again – she was barely certain that she'd actually seen anything at all. Was she just imagining things? Being paranoid? Persuading herself she'd seen something when she really hadn't?

Even if it was actually Azula, and she did somehow know about the way Toph's sense of sight functioned, Toph still couldn't fathom how Azula could possibly avoid being seen on a ship made almost entirely of metal. It didn't seem possible.

Was it her? Was it anything at all?

Toph spread her feet firmly and pressed both of her palms against the metal walls, trying to force the picture in her head to be clearer, more specific. She saw the whole ship. She could see all the people lying spread out on the top deck. She could see Katara kneeling beside Zuko, six decks up. She could even see Momo scampering about.

But she couldn't see that elusive phantom anywhere.

Removing her hands from the wall, Toph let out a grunt of frustration.

"Do you see her?" one of the soldiers asked.

"No," Toph sighed. "I don't know."

Maybe she hadn't seen anything at all in the first place. Maybe she _was _just being paranoid. Maybe Azula was gone.

But Toph shook her head, as if she were disagreeing with herself. No – _no_. It was still too easy. She just had a feeling it was too easy. And she was sure she'd seen _something_, though it wasn't even clear that it was a person. But whatever it was, it was gone now.

If it wasn't Azula, then what was it? And _where_?

If it _was_… then how did she make herself disappear? How was that possible? Was she even human?

"Let's head back up," Toph declared after a moment, irritably blowing at her bangs. "We'll give the general our report."

"And… what _is _our report?" another of the soldiers asked.

She sighed. "We didn't find anything. The ship is clear, at least for now. We'll all stay alert and keep a sharp lookout, obviously. But... I don't see any reason to scare anyone for nothing. _I'm _definitely not concerned, at least. If Azula really was stupid enough to climb back on board, she can't hide forever. I'll see her coming a mile away, and then she'll have _me _to reckon with."

That uneasiness stirred within her again, but she believed what she said. There was no way – absolutely _no way_ – that Azula could get the upper hand here. Not on a metal ship. Not while the world's first and greatest Metalbender was on board.

And if it wasn't Azula – well, then, there really _was _nothing to worry about.

* * *

><p>Young General Ashiro, unlike the feverish Fire Lord lying beside him, was mostly conscious now. He'd taken some serious injuries in the explosion, but he was largely unconcerned about himself at the moment. The worries that troubled his mind now were all for his wounded men, and for Zuko. Zuko was still in worse shape than all of them, despite Katara's healing, and Ashiro could only hope that the Fire Lord was strong enough to make it through this ordeal alive.<p>

Faintly, through heavy eyelids, he watched Katara kneel beside Zuko for probably the tenth time, spreading her healing energy through his body. Zuko's renowned uncle, Iroh, still sat nearby, with the young princess beside him, but at a tentative distance – watching it all, with an inscrutable expression on his wizened face. And Zuko's mother still held her son gently.

_Zuko's mother. _Ashiro had been struggling not to stare at her. He could still hardly believe that it really was _her_ – the former Princess Ursa. He had seen her face before in paintings, and had heard many stories about her (not all of them positive). It was surreal to see her actually sitting there in the flesh, so close, holding her son as if she'd never been gone at all. Ashiro had to admit, as he lay here watching her, he was feeling more and more incredulous about some of the less flattering rumors he'd heard about her. The way she cradled Zuko like a child was tender and poignant – Ashiro was quite moved by it. And her voice as she hummed quietly to her son was just as soothing to Ashiro as she meant it to be to Zuko. He had trouble believing that she was really the cold-hearted traitor that many of the stories made her out to be.

Ashiro watched Katara closely as well. He watched her face as she healed Zuko. He saw in her eyes how desperately she wanted him to wake up and speak to her. But Zuko didn't – he still didn't. He muttered nonsense and shuddered and groaned, but his mind didn't return yet.

At last, after a few minutes, Katara sighed and pulled her healing water away from Zuko, declaring in a disappointed voice that Zuko _was _doing better than before, that his heart was beating regularly again and his more serious wounds were healing properly. She seemed confounded, as if she couldn't understand why he was still not waking up. But she breathed heavily and blinked her tired eyes, and told his mother and uncle that she'd be back in a few minutes, after she checked on everyone else again.

She came next to Ashiro, but feebly he raised his hand and pushed hers away.

"No," he muttered. "I'm fine. Take care of the others. Take care of the Fire Lord first."

She just gave him a severe, weary look. "Ashiro, stop. I'm taking care of _everyone_, as fast as I can. And you're not fine. You need help just as much as anyone else. Now, be still and let me do my job. Please."

Too tired to protest further, Ashiro obeyed, drifting off into something of a tranquil daze as the cool healing energy surged through his blood and refreshed his feverish, injured body. His eyes, struggling to stay focused beneath heavy, sleepy eyelids, remained fixed on her.

"You look... troubled," he commented faintly, after a moment.

She didn't look at him. "Yeah," she said, flatly. "Well."

His mind was wandering more away into a state of half-awake relaxation, and, forgetting his usual respectful discretion, he suddenly asked her, "So, why didn't you want anyone to know that Tenzin's father was Avatar Aang?"

That time she did look at him, in surprise. The mention of the Avatar's name seemed to suddenly shake her to the core, and her hands trembled, and she didn't breathe for a moment.

"How did you know that?" she asked him, softly.

"Zuko told us," Ashiro explained, still fighting to stay awake. "For the boy's protection. It was strange. I always thought you and Zuko... but I guess not."

Katara was flushing and biting her lip. She wouldn't look the general in the eye anymore, and didn't say anything else to him; but she threw herself back into the healing, with all her concentration.

Meanwhile, Toph arrived back out in the open deck, followed by the handful of soldiers. The first one who spotted her was Yonten, and he hastily gusted across the stern towards her.

"Toph!" he cried anxiously. "You've returned! Did you find anything? Did you see anything?"

But she just gave him a grim frown and gestured sharply for him to hush up.

"Not now, Pipsqueak," she whispered, turning away. Then her voice boomed across the deck. "Hey, Katara! Is the general awake?"

"Well – yeah, barely," Katara replied offhandedly, without even looking back at Toph.

Toph strode over, followed by the soldiers, with Yonten straggling along uncertainly in the back. She took a solemn stance at Ashiro's feet, glancing down at him.

"General Ashiro," she said. "We've searched the ship. Everything seems safe enough. We haven't found any concrete indication that Azula managed to get back on board, and I can't see her anywhere, so I'd say it's pretty unlikely that she's here. I don't think there's anything to worry about at the moment. But even still, we ought to keep a careful watch."

"So you didn't see anything at all?" Ashiro asked her sleepily.

Toph seemed to hesitate for a moment, then smirked slightly. "Well, I saw _lots_ of things. But none of them were Azula, as far as I could tell."

"Miss Beifong was concerned that Azula might have come on board through the anchor, general," one of the soldiers piped up. "But we found no evidence that she was here."

Yonten found a place to stand beside Katara, and watched Toph carefully. Something – he wasn't sure what – told him that she was feeling uneasy, though she didn't say so aloud. But he couldn't imagine why she would hide anything from them.

Ashiro also studied Toph, in his half-conscious daze, and smiled faintly. "Thank you, Miss Beifong," he said. "That's good to know. Thank you for taking charge, while I'm... um, indisposed. Your help is greatly appreciated."

Toph shrugged. "No problem. Taking charge is sort of what I do."

"Have I mentioned what a great honor it is to meet you, by the way?" Ashiro muttered.

She grinned a bit. "Well, yeah. You did earlier. But that's fine. I like hearing it multiple times."

Katara snickered quietly and rolled her eyes to herself.

"I've heard so much about you," Ashiro went on, voice rasping – he seemed to once again be forgetting himself in his weary daze. "You're practically legendary, you know. The greatest Earthbender in the world, _and _the inventor of Metalbending. Is it true that you learned your skills straight from the badgermoles?"

Toph was beaming yet more, pleased at the attention. "As a matter of fact, I did. They're the best teachers around. And a _lot_ more patient than I am."

"And how did you invent Metalbending? Weren't you only a child at the time? Did it take a great deal of practice before you succeeded?"

"Oh," she shrugged cheerfully. "No, basically I just decided to do it, and then did it. I don't know. It just came to me."

"Even more impressive!" Ashiro sighed – he was almost entirely asleep, but still staring at Toph with hazy eyes. "_Toph Beifong._ I've just heard so many stories... And who knew you were so beautiful on top of everything else?"

Toph blushed suddenly. And Yonten coughed, loudly. Katara glanced up at him curiously, and saw (with mild amusement) that he looked thoroughly miffed.

"Well, uh... I do my best," Toph shrugged, a little awkwardly. "Anyway, we'll keep a sharp lookout, in case anything suspicious happens."

"I'm sure you'll handle it," Ashiro mumbled. His eyes were closed now, and he was essentially talking in his sleep. Katara pulled her healing hands away from him and looked up at Toph.

"He needs his rest."

Toph just nodded, gesturing at the soldiers to head off. They all wandered away from the invalids, taking up various posts around the deck. Toph herself meandered across to the side opposite Katara's small, crude infirmary – pausing a moment to pet Momo, who was perched restlessly on the railing. Then she turned back and shouted, "Hey, Pipsqueak! Can I talk to you for a second?"

Yonten still stood by Katara, and didn't respond to her call. But she knew he must have heard her; he'd have to be deaf _not _to hear her, and she'd sensed him tense up anyway at the sound of her voice. He was just ignoring her.

After a moment of waiting, Toph sighed and rolled her eyes.

"_Yonten! _Get your Airbending butt _over here!_"

That time, he did turn and come, but very slowly, stepping casually across the deck towards her. She got the feeling he was moving extra slowly on purpose, pretending he wasn't all that interested, just to irritate her. She crossed her arms and tapped her feet impatiently as she waited for him.

"Did you want something?" he asked calmly, though he sounded displeased.

"Took your precious time, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Did you want something?"

Toph just sighed again, wearily. "Look, if you're gonna be like _that_, then just forget it – "

"No, no," Yonten said hastily. "I'm sorry. Really. What did you want to say?"

She hesitated, then lowered her voice to a cautious hush. "I, uh... I wanted to ask your advice about something." She sounded a little embarrassed about it.

Yonten blinked at her for a moment, surprised. "Me? You want _my _advice?"

"Well, yeah," she shrugged awkwardly. "I mean, you're an Airbender, so you're all, y'know, wise and shit."

He blinked again, and blushed, and then smiled rather proudly.

"Plus," she went on, "Uncle's sort of preoccupied with Zuko right now, so I didn't want to bother him." Then she paused, frowning at him fiercely, sensing how excessively pleased he was by this. "Don't let it go to your head now, Baldy."

"Very well," he said, though he was still beaming uncontrollably. "So, what did you need advice about?"

Toph exhaled sharply, and scratched anxiously behind her ear, and finally whispered, "I think I... I think I might have seen something."

"Where? Down in the ship?"

"Yeah," she muttered, reluctantly, unsure of herself.

He sounded alarmed. "Was it her? Azula?"

"I don't know," she admitted, frustrated. "I don't know _what _I saw. I'm not even sure I really saw it."

He paused, confused. "So... you saw something... but you didn't see anything?"

"Well," she said slowly, "I mean, I thought I _might _have seen something, a couple of times, but I couldn't tell what. And then it was gone. Just – _poof! _Whatever it was, it just disappeared. And I don't get how that could happen, so I started wondering if maybe I'd never seen anything to begin with. Like maybe I was just being paranoid – "

"I think it's best to assume that you _did _see something," Yonten asserted hurriedly. "Even if it was nothing."

"Yeah," she nodded, furrowing her brow. "I agree, but – "

"But – you can see through the entire ship, correct? You can see everything? So, if there _was _something – "

"Well, I can see anything that's in contact with the metal," she clarified. "But the whole damn ship is made of metal! Everything – the floors, the walls, the ceilings. There isn't anywhere on the ship that's _not _made of metal. No one could be on board without me knowing about it. It just... it doesn't make sense."

He pondered for a moment. "Does Azula know that you can see through metal? Would she know that you could spot her anywhere?"

Toph shrugged. "Well, I didn't think she did, but now I'm not so sure. But – but, no! Even still!" She shook her head fiercely. "How could she just turn invisible? How is that possible?"

"I don't know," he sighed, frowning in bewilderment.

"So, yeah. I'm not really sure what's the best thing to do with this," she admitted, with another awkward sigh.

"Shouldn't you tell the general?" Yonten suggested.

"But," she growled in frustration, "but – what's _he _gonna do? I mean, _look at him_. You heard him babbling. He's not really in any shape to do anything, and it'll just stress him out over something he can't control. And I don't know when Katara'll get done fixing him."

"I think you should tell _someone!_"

"Well, I just told you, didn't I?" she couldn't help but quip. "Anyway, I'm the best one to handle it right now, and I don't want to freak everyone out. Not right now. Katara's busy trying to keep everyone from dying – Sokka's just worrying about _everything_ and everyone – and Aang's losing precious time..."

"Yes, but," he frowned, worried, "Toph – we won't be staying here that much longer. You might be the best to handle the situation _now_, but who will handle it when we leave?"

She didn't reply for a moment. Just crossed her arms and set her jaw in rather unhappy pensiveness. Although she didn't say it aloud, he quickly deduced what her answer to his question was.

"You mean to stay here, on the ship?" he asked, staring at her.

She sighed heavily. "Well, I don't – I mean, I don't want to. And I'm sure Sokka and Katara will make a fuss about it – "

"Yes!" Yonten nodded, still gazing at her despondently. "They wouldn't be happy. Not at all."

"But – " she shook her head. "I _have _to. The ship should keep going to the North Pole. But we can't just leave all these people here – all the soldiers and crew and everyone – alone, when Azula might have got back on board. But if _I'm _here, at least... Then I'll find her. She can't hide from me forever. And I doubt she's had a whole lot of experience fighting against a Metalbender – _the _Metalbender, I might add – on a ship made almost _completely_ of metal. She might be carrying handy little explosive things in her pockets, but she'd barely stand a chance against me."

She was bragging a bit, admittedly – but Yonten also knew she wasn't exaggerating. If anyone was equipped to take Azula down single-handedly, it was Toph. But his stomach churned with uneasiness nevertheless.

"But you don't see her now, Toph," he pointed out carefully. "What if she's here, and she found some way to hide? How can you be so sure you'd see her later, if she _does _try something?"

"Well, don't forget, she might not be here at all."

"Right. But what if she is?"

Toph shook her head yet again, frowning solemnly. "No. It's... if she _is_ here, and she's somehow found some way to hide from me... Whatever she's doing, she can't keep it up forever. I'll see her eventually."

Yonten hesitated, studying her carefully. She seemed so confident – too confident. And he didn't like the prospect of the rest of them traveling on to the North Pole without her. But he sighed.

"Well, Toph. If you think it's best for you to stay here, then I agree. I don't like it, though."

"I don't like it either."

"But Toph?"

"Huh?"

"Please be cautious. All right?"

She smirked slightly. "D'aw, you all worried about me, Pipsqueak?"

Yonten flushed a bit. "Well, yes."

She snickered, and punched him in the arm. "Don't you worry your hairless little arrow-head about _me_, buddy. I can handle anything – even Azula."

* * *

><p><em>SIXTH HOUR<em>

Little Ursa, seething with powerful, destructive emotions that she couldn't control or understand, found that sitting near her suffering father for any long period of time was unbearable. She kept returning to him, driven by her own overwhelming desire to be with him at all times; but then she kept leaving him, repelled by the sight of him in such a vulnerable, painful state, and frightened by the dreadful thoughts that kept taking shape in her imagination.

She, too, was being consumed by the idea of death: an idea she hadn't thought much about in her short life, until only recently. Unlike Tenzin, though, she _could _comprehend it – at least somewhat. Her mind was constructed in such a way to allow her to imagine it, understand it, reflect upon it.

She'd experienced the feeling of looking death in the face herself. Back in the tea shop, when Azula had grabbed her by the hair, she'd had a moment of clear certainty, knowing she was about to die, knowing that her life was over.

And even though she'd survived that time, she remembered the feeling. She remembered that inconceivable certainty – knowing that she wouldn't be around to see what tomorrow was like, or any day after that. Knowing that time, and the world, would all go on without her.

And now, as she watched her father, she felt it again, but not for her own sake. She felt it for him, just as she'd felt it for Uncle a few days ago. She felt the unbearable burden of the idea: death, coming to take him away. The end of his life. Her father, gone forever. Even though he was still alive now, and Aunt Tara kept assuring them all that she wouldn't let him die, and she wouldn't leave him until she knew he was okay…

Ursa had always assumed that he couldn't die. Just like Uncle couldn't die. Just like she herself couldn't die. But she was now realizing how naïve that was. She was beginning to face the hard truth that _anyone_ could die – no one was safe. Anyone's life could be over in an instant.

The idea, the truth, sent a chill into her young soul. It made the world feel smaller, harder and meaner. It made everything feel useless and hopeless.

So, as the hours of night passed on, and Aunt Tara worked to heal everyone, and her father still refused to open his eyes and talk to them and be okay, young Ursa left him again, because she couldn't stand it anymore. She got up and wandered over to Appa, and sat down next to Tenzin, who looked very sleepy but wasn't asleep.

Neither of the children had much to say at first, though they were both happy to see each other. Ursa sniffled, and refused to cry, and suddenly wrapped her arms around Tenzin as if he were a stuffed toy or a comforting pillow. Tenzin didn't protest.

"You okay?" she asked him softly.

He nodded softly, blinking wearily, staring at the ground before him. After a moment, he repeated the question quietly back to her: "You okay?"

"I dunno," she admitted, her voice quivering. "I just want dad to get better."

Tenzin looked up at her then. "Don't worry. Momma's gonna fix him. He'll be okay."

She bit her lip. "But what if he's _not_? You don't know that for sure. What if she can't fix him? What if this is _it_?"

She saw tears welling in his eyes then, and he turned his gaze back to the ground in bitter shame. "Zuko can't die," he declared faintly.

"But he _can_," she choked. "That's the worst part! He _can_. Don't you see? _Anyone _can! It's not fair."

"I think this is all my fault."

She gaped at him, taken aback by that sudden statement. "What? No, it's not. It's Azula's fault. She's the one who did all this."

He shook his head fiercely, sniffling with feeble remorse. "But I ran off, when they told me not to. This all happened because I didn't do what they said." He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Why did you run off?" she asked, frowning.

"I don't know!" he cried, shoving his fist into his eyes in frustration and dissolving into hiccuping tears. "I don't know! I just really, _really _wish I didn't! No one understands. They don't know I'm sorry – they just think I'm gonna do it again. They don't even _know_. I can't make them..."

His words drifted into unintelligible sobs for a moment. Ursa didn't say anything, but she let her own tears begin to fall again, in tragic sympathy.

"We were just _here_ for so long," he tried to explain again, after a while, "and it was terrible. It was the worst, Ursa! You don't know what it was like. It was like – I dunno – I just felt mad, and Zuko wouldn't let me go anywhere, and it wasn't fair... and he – I dunno – I was mad. And I guess I thought it didn't make sense how no one could catch Azula – but we weren't gonna go to the North Pole until someone caught her. We were just gonna keep _sitting _here, and it was bad, and I _really _wanted to go to the North Pole and I wanted to see Momma again, and I thought maybe if I was careful I could find where Azula was hiding without getting caught, and then go back and tell them, and it would all be okay, and I'd be a hero like Daddy, and then Zuko would see that I could do things on my own too, just like them. And then we'd get to go to the North Pole and it would all be okay. But it wasn't... it was bad – just a bad, dumb idea. And... then all _this _happened. It all happened because I didn't do what they told me to do. I'm so... I'm so..."

He couldn't even finish his sentence. He didn't even know _what _he was. He just sat there, choking and hiccuping and crying helplessly. All these emotions – the emotions the grown-ups didn't, and wouldn't, understand – had been bottling up inside him for hours now, and he couldn't hold them in any longer.

Ursa wasn't sure what to say, so she kept silent, but she cried with him too and kept squeezing him like he was her own little pillow.

"And now," he sobbed, gasping as he tried to regain control of himself, "now, maybe... maybe we're not gonna go to the North Pole at all, 'cause it's too late and Momma's got to do everything, but she can't. And it's my fault. I just wanted... I just wanted to be like them."

"Well, don't give up," she said, trying her hardest to give him some comfort. "I think Aunt Tara's still gonna go to the North Pole. I don't think she'd quit, after coming all this way."

He shook his head, though not because he was disagreeing with her – just because he was troubled and confused. His broken sobs were settling again, and he breathed very slowly, staring across the deck at the grown-ups: at his mother, who was at Zuko's side again. At Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki, and Auntie Toph, who was patrolling the deck with all the soldiers.

"Do you – " he began, hesitating, unsure of himself. "Ursa? D'you think _we_ could... do you think we'll ever be like them?"

She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know – like _them_." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the adults.

Ursa glanced out and studied all of the grown-ups as well, and shrugged, still not fully understanding his meaning. "Well," she said slowly, furrowing her brow. "We're gonna grow up one day. We can't really avoid that."

"Yeah," Tenzin said, "but will we grow up to be like them? Or just normal, boring people?"

Ursa was silent, at a loss for an answer.

"Do you think they'd still love us the same if we were just normal when we grew up?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't they?"

He paused, rubbing his eye again, thinking very hard. "Do you think they forget sometimes that we _could_ be like them? 'Cause I think they forget. We're still too small. They don't think we're like them at all."

Ursa hesitated, pondering all these things rather sadly, and then sighed. "Well… I think they're all just normal too, really," she said after a moment.

Tenzin didn't say anything more for a while. When he finally spoke again, it was in a strange, bewildered whisper. "Did you know Avatar Aang's my dad?"

She gawked at him. She _did _already know it – she'd heard the story and learned everything on the way there. But still, she hadn't really _thought _about it. Not in such a commonplace way. She looked at Tenzin – in all his tiny, dark-haired, big-eared normalcy – and imagined him being the son of Avatar Aang. It did not quite compute in her mind.

"That's weird," she declared simply, after a moment.

Tenzin shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

She shook her head, still having trouble wrapping her mind around it. "Your dad is the Avatar... It's just _really _weird."

He glanced up at her. "Well, but _your _dad's the Fire Lord, and that's not weird. It's kinda the same thing, when you think about it. It's not that weird."

"Yeah, but _my _dad's just... my dad," she argued. "Yours is the Avatar!"

"Hmph," Tenzin grunted pensively. "I don't know. I think he's probably just normal too. Just like the rest of them. It's just we've never met him yet, so it's weird. But I bet if he was here, it would all be pretty normal. You know?"

But Ursa just shook her head, still frowning incredulously. "I dunno," she said. "It's still weird to me. But maybe you're right."

"If he ever comes back," Tenzin added after a moment, in a broken, barely audible whisper.

Ursa looked at him, and hugged him again, tighter.

* * *

><p><em>SEVENTH HOUR<em>

"Hey – are you okay?" Sokka asked Suki, for the millionth time in the past few hours.

She was leaning on the ship's railing, with her eyes shut tight, fighting the pain. But she nodded at him forcefully. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You should sit down somewhere." He took her arm – the unscathed one – and tried to lead her away. "Stop trying to do stuff. You're just gonna – "

"Sokka, really," she sighed, giving him an exasperated look. "I'm all right. I just got a little burned, that's all. It's not exactly life-threatening."

Sokka frowned at her. "Can I just take a look?"

She sighed again, rolling her eyes, and conceded to sit herself down on the railing, while Sokka crouched and examined her burnt arm and leg. The skin was mottled red and blistering, and strips of her clothing were stuck to it in places. Suki bit her lip in pain merely at a gentle breeze that whistled by.

"I'm gonna get Katara to fix it," Sokka declared after a moment, standing up decisively.

"Sokka, no!" Suki protested stubbornly. "She's got too many things to deal with already! What's a stupid burn when people are dying? She can look at it once everyone else is taken care of. It's _fine_. Just leave it alone."

Sokka just scowled, knowing she was right, but upset regardless. Yet again, he resented the universe for not giving him the same healing abilities Katara had.

"Well, you should get some cold water on it or something," he insisted. "Maybe we should try to clean it – wrap it up in a damp rag or something – "

"Uh, no," Suki protested. "I'm pretty sure that's _not _what you're supposed to do with these kinds of things."

"How do you know? Who made you a medical expert?"

"Says the genius who once tried to get a fishhook out of his thumb _with another fishhook_! Yeah, I think I'll take my chances."

"Oh, come on! I was like, _nine_ when that happened!"

"Yeah, yeah," Suki rolled her eyes with a smirk. "But you still did it."

"Look, I – " Sokka sighed in frustration, giving her a strangely vulnerable frown. "I just – I can't stand watching you walk around like this. I want to help. I need to _do _something. I mean – I wasn't here for you when you needed me before, and I almost lost you. And the worst part is, I wouldn't have even _known_ that I'd lost you. And that kinda scares me. It scares me a lot, actually. So, I'm here now. Could you at least let me _try _to not be completely useless? Please?"

Instead of replying, Suki suddenly pulled him in and kissed him fervently. Sokka wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, with an almost adolescent kind of affection. For a few moments they both finally allowed themselves to give in to the simple, unabashed gratefulness for each other's existence that they'd been bottling up for the past few hours.

Then Suki pulled away and just smiled at him. "You're not useless," she said. "And I'm, uh... I'm really glad you're here, Sokka. _Really _glad. Did I tell you that yet?"

"No," Sokka shook his head, also smiling. "But, um... me too."

* * *

><p><em>EIGHTH HOUR<em>

The sun at last began to crawl over the horizon, and a stagnant, foggy morning engulfed the ship in silence.

Katara sat by Zuko's side again – alone, now, fighting against the tyrannical need to sleep. Iroh had taken Zuko's mother on a short stroll around the ship a few minutes ago, sensing that she needed some kind of respite from the stress of waiting for her son to recover. Most of the other soldiers were taken care of now, just sleeping away the last of their pains. Katara wished she could sleep hers away – but she knew sleep would only exacerbate her pain, rather than relieve it.

Her eyelids were trying to close of their own free will, but she forced them to stay open. Her head was throbbing and spinning with sleeplessness and worry. Zuko still hadn't awoken – he lay sleeping beside her now. She'd fixed his injured body, but she didn't know where his mind was, and she couldn't bring it back, no matter how she tried.

The two children were asleep, too – entirely wiped out by the excitement and the long, hard night. They slept side by side, next to Appa, who hadn't woken for hours except to yawn now and then and readjust himself into a more comfortable position.

Katara's left hand rested on Zuko's. Her right hand was in her pocket, clinging to the betrothal necklace with all her might. Her eyelids tried to fall shut again, and she renewed her efforts to keep them open.

_Don't fall asleep_, she commanded herself.

Her terror of sleep had only compounded throughout this long, troublesome night. What would Aang say to her now? Not only was she not on her way to save him – distracted, delayed _again_ – but all her fierce longing to bring him back was now wrestling with a million other treacherous emotions, and the battle had only grown worse as the night went on.

A whole night lost: a whole night closer to losing Aang forever.

And would he know? Would Aang know about her powerful worries for Zuko? Would he conclude that she perhaps had feelings for Zuko that didn't belong alongside her feelings for him, that couldn't possibly coexist in the same heart – yet there they were?

And would he know that she'd – that all night she'd been questioning the journey entirely, all because of her growing fear of abandoning Tenzin? Even though the thought of giving up and letting Aang go quite literally tore her soul apart – was she really doing the right thing? Or was Aang's warning true, that she'd never come back? Was she abandoning her child, abandoning her responsibilities as a mother, all because she just couldn't bear to let go of Aang?

Either way, she'd be abandoning _someone_. Either Aang, or Tenzin. But she couldn't stand either option. Leaving Tenzin, quite possibly forever – leaving him all alone, an orphan – she couldn't _do _that. It would kill her.

But forgetting Aang? Giving up her only chance to save him? Going on with her life without him, forever?

Katara squeezed the necklace in one hand, and squeezed Zuko's hand in the other, and a bitter tear rolled down her cheek. She felt like she was trapped in a vice, being crushed in an unwinnable dilemma. Either way, some part of her was going to be destroyed, and there was no alternative.

She shuddered. Even though she wasn't sleeping, it felt as if her dreams were trying to push through the borders of her mind into her exhausted, foggy consciousness. Apparitions flickered in her peripheral sight. Her eyes kept tricking her into believing that Aang was there, lurking about the ship, watching her from a distance – but whenever she looked, there was nothing there.

Of course there was nothing there. She knew it was just her sleep-deprived mind conjuring up phantom images. Yet, even still, as she sat now beside Zuko, and the sun rose slowly over the misty deck, she thought she glimpsed him again – perched in the rigging above, watching over her. And she instinctively released Zuko's hand, afraid that Aang would see.

"Katara?"

Katara jumped in surprise – suddenly wide awake – and gaped at Zuko. His eyes were open, and he was finally looking at her. He was finally okay. Her heart leaped with relief.

"Zuko!" she cried, immediately turning herself to face him, and smiling helplessly. "You're awake!"

He just stared at her, and looked rather perplexed. "You're actually here?" he asked faintly. "Why aren't you at the North Pole?"

A sharp jolt of pain shot through her at that question. The only way it could have hurt more was if it had been Aang asking it.

She couldn't answer, so she hastily turned the conversation onto him. "Um," she stammered, flushing. "How are you feeling?"

He didn't seem to notice that she'd evaded the question. Blinking heavily, he just smiled feebly at her. "Pretty bad," he replied, still gazing at her with slight bewilderment. "Did you save me?"

Katara smiled tearfully, and finally nodded, without a word.

"Don't you ever get tired of saving people all the time?" he asked.

She let out a tired chuckle, and then sighed. "Well," she said slowly, "yeah. Yeah, I do, sometimes."

"So," he muttered slowly, furrowing his brow, asking again, "why aren't you at the North Pole? Shouldn't you be saving Aang right now?"

She bit her lip and looked away, again feeling a sharp pain at the question. Why wasn't she at the North Pole? How long had it been now since she'd found out where Aang was? – three weeks? Yet she was barely closer to her destination now than she'd been then. How had she not managed to get there yet? If she really cared about Aang so much, shouldn't she have saved him by now?

"Well, uh," she stumbled, her voice rasping, "we got a little bit... sidetracked."

Zuko just stared at her, and she wondered what he was thinking. She rather _dreaded _what he was thinking, in fact: what conclusions might he be forming now, about her? Would he think that perhaps her desire to save Aang wasn't as urgent as it actually was?

"What happened was," she tried to explain, hastily, "we ran into Uncle and Ursa – "

Zuko almost sat up in surprise, but he was still too weak to do so. "Uncle? Ursa?_ They're alive?_"

Now Katara gaped at him, taken aback. "Well, yeah," she said. "They're alive, and they're both here. You thought they were...?"

His eyes were wide, and his mouth broke suddenly into a tremulous smile. Quickly, he wiped a sudden tear away, and chuckled faintly. "Azula... she said she... I should have known. I should have known she was lying. She said they were... But they're not?"

"No, they're fine – well, Uncle _did _get hurt, but they're definitely both alive. And in a lot better shape than you, actually."

He chuckled again, sighing with deep relief, and just stared at her for a second. "I thought they were gone," he whispered. "I thought I'd never see them again. I couldn't even... I couldn't even remember what I'd said to them, last time I saw either of them. It was... I hadn't regretted _anything_ that much, in a really long time. I never want to take anyone for granted like that again."

Katara studied him for a moment. He was gazing away from her now, staring deeply into himself; but he turned his eyes back to hers. She looked away quickly, once again feeling herself fracturing, and stirring with heavy remorse.

"Zuko," she said at last, quietly. "I, um... I wanted to apologize for... not really saying good-bye to you, when I left. I mean, not saying good-bye very... well."

He watched her thoughtfully. "It's okay," he murmured at last.

She sighed, gnawing anxiously at her lip again. "It's just," she struggled to explain, "I was so afraid, when we got here a little while ago and I saw you lying there. You looked like you were already dead. I thought you were gone. And I – I kept thinking about... the way I talked to you, last time I saw you. How things were pretty bad between us when I left. And how – how I'd never get a chance to say I was sorry, and make things right..." She trailed off for a moment, overwhelmed, fighting against tears that sprang up from a grief and a regret much deeper than the one she voiced aloud.

"Yeah," Zuko sighed heavily. "I know what you mean – "

But she just shook her head fiercely. "No, I don't think you do. See, Zuko – " She hesitated, unsure whether or not she really wanted to confess her deepest shame to him, but honestly too exhausted to stop herself. "I never really told you about this, but... the last time I saw Aang, we'd – we'd had a fight. _I _fought with him. He didn't do anything wrong – it was all my fault. I was... _so _stupid, and I stopped talking to him. And then when he left, he tried to say good-bye to me, and I still – "

She choked helplessly. Her hands were shaking, and her fingers once again wrapped themselves around the necklace in her pocket, with ferocious intensity.

Zuko was staring at her grimly, torn between sympathy for her, and his aversion to hearing her talk about Aang. But he didn't interrupt her.

"I _still _didn't say anything to him," she went on, bitterly. "Nothing... And then he was gone, and he never came back, and it was too late. It was too late. And all I've thought about these past few years is how much I wish I'd just – I'd just _said _something. I'd give anything to go back to that moment and do it differently... And then, when I thought you were dead, all I could think was – not again. _Not again_. I'd done it again, without even realizing it. I left you without saying good-bye – or, well, I _tried_ to, anyway. I did everything wrong. I hurt you. And now you were going to be gone forever, and it would all happen again... Just like with Aang."

She stopped talking then, for a little while, allowing a few raw, weary tears to roll down her cheeks. Zuko didn't reply – he wasn't sure what to say, or what to think. So he just kept watching her in silence.

At last, she pulled her hand out of her pocket – still clutching the necklace in a tight fist – and scrubbed her tears away on her sleeve. "I don't know why I keep doing this," she sighed tremulously. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Katara," he finally whispered.

"There are _lots _of things wrong with me," she argued. "It's like all I care about is myself. I don't want to – but I keep doing it."

"Katara," Zuko sighed, feeling almost a little impatient. "You're being too hard on yourself. You're probably the least selfish person I've ever met. And I'm not just saying that because..." He trailed off, wary of completing that sentence, then shook his head feebly. "I mean, ask anyone. Ask Sokka. You're not selfish. Look – right now, you're taking the time to heal everyone, even people you don't even know, while you could be on your way to the North Pole. How could you even _think_ that you're selfish?"

For a moment, she just gazed pensively at the ground, shutting her eyes tightly in angry despair. "Someone died earlier. Someone died because I spent too much time trying to heal you. Because I cared more about whether _you _were okay than whether anyone else was."

"You can't help that. You can't care equally about everyone. You're just human."

She shook her head faintly, shuddering. "But I left Tenzin, and you, and dragged Sokka and everyone else off on this crazy trip to the North Pole – "

"Well," Zuko snickered faintly, and a bit sourly. "You're not exactly going there for a vacation, Katara."

Her eyes seemed to look far ahead, to something beyond sight. Her expression grew even more grave, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was a shattered whisper.

"I broke his heart, Zuko," she confessed, so faintly he almost didn't hear it. "Aang's. He loved me – he trusted me, and I betrayed him. He was the one I wanted, and I treated him like dirt, and then he left and never came back... Why did I do that?" She took a moment to breathe, and held the betrothal necklace close to her heart, as more silent tears fell slowly. "And then I was so preoccupied with my own need to get him back that I almost did it again, to you. Why do I keep doing this? What's wrong with me?"

"Katara," Zuko muttered, turning his eyes away from her. He saw the necklace in her hand, and his voice wavered slightly with pain. "I'm sorry, but I... Could we not...?" He could hardly bear to listen to her talk about Aang, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her to change the subject.

She sighed deeply, sensing the meaning of what he wouldn't say aloud. "I'm sorry, Zuko," she said, wiping her tears away. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you. I just – I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I wanted you to understand."

He didn't answer her for a while. Just gazed at her, bitter and broken, feeling the weight of his loneliness. Of both of their lonelinesses. It wasn't fair. They should have had each other, to alleviate the loneliness they both felt – but they didn't. Here they were, together, yet both utterly and completely alone.

"Katara," he spoke again, after a long, heavy silence, "I know, um – I know this might not be the best time, right now, considering... everything that's going on. But I – I have to tell you something. Even though I think you probably already know – "

She glanced at him, and her eyes suddenly sparked with alarm. "Zuko, don't – "

"Please, listen. I need to get this off my chest – "

He could see her flushing fiercely already, and she shook her head at him. "No, _no_. Please – "

"_Katara_." He glared at her sternly. "Could you please just let me talk? As a favor to me? Please?"

She stared at him for a moment, wrestling with herself, but finally sighed helplessly and looked away, without a word. He took that to mean she was going to allow him to say it, though she clearly knew already what he was about to say. But he had to get it out: he had to make sure she understood him.

"So, uh," he began, a little awkwardly, also looking away from her. "Well, first, I'm... I'm really bad at talking about... how I feel about things, and stuff. But you already know that, too."

She scoffed slightly, but still didn't speak.

"I'm not like you," he went on. "I can't just say what I feel. That's one weird reason why me and Mai always got along, I think. We were both really bad at it, but we kinda understood each other. Most of the time, anyway. You, though – I don't understand you. But even still – "

She cringed, and looked as if she were about to explode, or cover her ears so she wouldn't have to hear it. "Zuko..."

"It's like this, basically." He took a deep breath, determined. "I _want _you to save Aang. I really do. I know you probably think I want to stop you or something, but – well, I do still wish you wouldn't go. But mostly just because I don't want anything to happen to _you_, not because I don't want Aang to be saved. I want him to be alive again. But the problem is, I... I don't want you to... I don't want you to _be _with him – "

He cringed at himself then, embarrassed and a little disgusted at his own words. He could see her flushing angrily, and for good reason.

"No, wait," he shook his head hastily, trying to correct himself. "That's not even right. It's not even that. That just sounds horrible. It's more like... I don't want you to _want _to be with him." But he scowled and shook his head again. "No, see, even that sounds horrible too. I don't mean it in a horrible way, really. It sounds less bad in my head – "

She was glowering at him furiously now. "Zuko – !"

"I'm sorry! I can't help it. It's nothing personal about Aang, either – but you probably figured that. I just don't want you to be with anyone, Katara. I want you to be with me. That's what I want. Because, I – "

"Zuko_, stop!_"

" – I sort of love you."

There it was. Unleashed into the air, never to be taken back. Katara glared at him bitterly, angry and remorseful and rather aggravated that he'd let the words free, and that she'd allowed him to do it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. She could see him flushing with embarrassment. "But... that's it."

Viciously, she brushed away another burning tear. "I wish you'd have just left this alone, Zuko – "

"But I can't," he protested. "I've _always _left it alone. I was tired of leaving it alone. I've _been _tired, for a while."

"You don't love me."

"Yes, I do!"

"_No_," she insisted furiously. "You think you _need_ me, but you don't."

"No, that's what _you _think," he argued, also glaring at her indignantly. "But you don't get it, Katara. You think you know what's really going on inside me, but you don't."

She couldn't reply. She only shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, too overcome with grief and frustration to speak.

"I'm sorry, Katara," Zuko sighed again. "But one of us had to stop ignoring it and do something. And it's pretty clear that you weren't gonna do anything, so I figured I should. I'm sorry."

Katara exhaled heavily, her anger ebbing away into cold regret and – and something like pity. Though she didn't want to pity Zuko. It made her feel despicable.

"Stop apologizing," she finally ordered him, in a strained whisper. "I feel like I'm the one who should be sorry about all this – "

"Why?" he asked, furrowing his brow at her.

She just shook her head again, slowly, starting to speak several times, but always hesitating. At last, she simply remarked, "I didn't want it to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Zuko sighed wearily. "Look," he murmured. "I didn't want to make you upset. I mean, I knew you _would _be upset, but that wasn't what I was trying to do. I just... I just really needed to get it off my chest. After everything that's happened recently, I just couldn't – I couldn't _not_ say it, you know. But I already know you don't feel that way about me – "

Then, inexplicably – she wasn't sure exactly why she did it herself – she leaned down and kissed him, _very _carefully. And then immediately wished she hadn't.

He gawked at her – and not very happily. In fact, after a second had passed, and the surprise wore off, he actually looked a little angry. And she gaped at him, and then glared, too – as if it were somehow _his _fault that she'd done it. Because _he'd_ gone and nearly died, and scared her half to death. Because he'd been acting so miserable and hopeless, and she'd felt compelled to show him that she _did _care about him, at least so he'd stop feeling so sorry for himself. Because he'd gone and fallen in love with her, and it was somehow her fault that he had, and she felt terrible about it. She flushed, and her mind screamed like an alarm: _TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!_

"Please stop, Zuko," she finally commanded him, in a fierce whisper. "Okay? Just... stop."

"Stop what?" he demanded quietly.

She didn't answer. She only leaned back and sighed sorrowfully, bewildered at herself, feeling the pain as the fractured pieces of herself only fractured into yet more pieces – too many to count. She felt sorry for doing whatever she'd done to Zuko, whatever she'd done that had made him so miserable. She felt sorry because she had only recently realized that she cared about Zuko even more than she'd thought she did. And she clutched the betrothal necklace tighter, and shed another tear, and closed her eyes – afraid that Aang was somewhere, watching – or that he'd know, somehow. And she felt angry, and lonely, and treacherous, and – and – just altogether horrible.

Zuko kept glowering at her, frowning irritably. She'd just given him something that he normally would have taken as a sign of hope, but not this time: he'd sensed the fear, and loneliness, and guilt, and – worst of all – the _pity_ that had motivated her to kiss him. All the wrong reasons. He knew it; _she _knew it, and he knew she knew it. And it made him feel indignant, not only for the sake of his own pride, but also (oddly enough) for Aang's sake as well.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," he finally muttered.

"Like what?"

He gave her an even more severe glare. "You _know _what, Katara. Things you don't mean. It just makes it all worse."

Katara just shut her eyes, fighting back another surge of tears. "Zuko – you're right about what you said earlier. You don't understand me at all." She opened her eyes and turned them upon him, fixing him with a stern, earnest stare. "You honestly think I don't care about you? You think it's that simple?"

Zuko only returned her stare, frowning solemnly.

She looked away and shook her head. "If you think that, you're wrong. Because I do, Zuko. I _do. _A lot. I mean, I lived with you for years, and we've been through a lot together. Honestly, I don't think I'd have survived some of those times without you. I can hardly help it that I care about you. But – "

"But you love Aang more."

She bit her lip, hurting. "Well, ye..." She sighed in frustration, trying to be honest but also struggling not to wound Zuko anymore than she already had. "I mean, I wish you wouldn't talk about it like that. It's not really a matter of 'more' or 'less.' It's just... _different_. That's like saying I love Tenzin more than I love Sokka. Yeah, Tenzin's my son, so I guess in a way you could say I love him more than Sokka. But I wouldn't say that. I love them both too much to ever say that. It's not like I'm handing out bigger or smaller portions of love to people. It's just different. Things that shouldn't be compared. You're oversimplifying it too much."

"Maybe you're just over-complicating it," Zuko remarked.

She glared at him. "Maybe you're just being difficult."

He smirked slightly. "Yeah, maybe."

Then they were both quiet for a few moments, and Zuko studied her carefully, pondering.

Suddenly – surprisingly – he chuckled. "So, in that metaphor, where me and Aang are like Sokka and Tenzin, are you saying that you love me more like a brother, or like a son?... Because, I'm pretty sure I could take a guess which one I am. But what would that say about Aang – ?"

Katara just rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You _know _that wasn't meant to be taken that literally. Now you really _are _just being difficult. Plus, you're making me feel weird."

Zuko snickered faintly at her.

She did smile a bit, but sadly, and didn't say anything else, and didn't look at him.

Zuko fell silent again too, for a while. Then, "Katara?"

She glanced at him. "Yeah?"

"Do you think... if it wasn't for Aang, you could be with me?"

Katara hesitated, staring very hard at him. "I don't think I want to answer that question."

"Why not? I'm not saying it's ever gonna happen. I'm just wondering."

"I don't want to answer because it's a terrible question, Zuko." She gave him a stern frown. "If I say 'yes' – which I think you're expecting I will, or hoping – it'll only make everything worse. Then you'll always be thinking about how things _could _have been, and you'll just get even more bitter at Aang because you'll always think he somehow came between us. Which he _didn't_. But if I say 'no,' then – well, I'd hurt your feelings, which I don't want to do. And anyway, I don't think I'd feel very honest giving you either answer."

Zuko paused reluctantly. "So, not yes or no... then maybe?"

She glared at him reproachfully. "No, _not _maybe. Not anything. The question doesn't even make sense, anyway."

"Why doesn't it make sense?"

"Because if it wasn't for Aang, you and me wouldn't be the way we are now at all."

"You mean, we'd have never met?"

"Well," she shrugged. "Yeah, we probably wouldn't have ever met. And we definitely would have never become friends, even if we had met somehow. But, even aside from all that – don't you remember what brought us together like this in the first place?"

"That we were both lonely and depressed?"

Her gaze softened slightly. "I meant more that we'd both just lost the person we loved, and we both had the kids to take care of. If it wasn't for that – if it wasn't for Aang, and Mai too – we'd have still been friends, but we would never have reached this point, where we're at now. You'd have never asked me that question at all. You'd probably have never even _wondered_ about it. See?"

He scrutinized her thoughtfully. "Yeah, I see what you mean," he admitted. "That's a little ironic, isn't it? Aang and Mai bringing us together."

"Yeah, it is," she sighed grimly. Her fingers brushed across the necklace's inscription absentmindedly.

Zuko sighed too. "But still," he whispered finally. "Ignoring all that. Just looking at us, here. Right now, the way we are now – do you think you might have, ever, been happy with me? The way you were with Aang?"

She didn't answer for a moment, and then quietly, she asked, "Do you think, if things were switched – if it was Mai who was still alive, and you were trying to bring her back – and _I _asked you this question... Would you have answered, Zuko? Would you have said yes? Honestly?"

Gravely, Zuko hesitated, then whispered, "I think I would have."

Sighing wearily, Katara shook her head yet again. "I'm not so sure you would. And anyway, _I _can't. And I already explained why I can't. It's not right. I'm sorry. But I really think it's time for you to let it go. Please."

"I don't want to let it go."

"I know you don't. I know you think you need me – "

"I _don't _think – "

"Zuko." Her voice was soft, but stern. "I know you want to hang onto this idea of me. And I think you did need me, at one point, just like I needed you. But you don't anymore. You've got to move past it."

He scoffed faintly, turned away from her with a bitter scowl. "Right. This coming from the girl who couldn't let go of Aang for _five years_."

She glared at him darkly. "_Zuko..._"

"I'm just saying, it's a lot easier to say it than to do it. You of all people should know that."

Her hand crushed the necklace. Her eyes fell to the ground, and her heart ached numbly. "I do know," she breathed. "But still... I'm on my way to save Aang, and you're not going to stop me."

"I don't want to stop you."

"But once that happens – once Aang is back – you know that means that you _are _gonna have to let me go, one way or another, or else you're just going to be miserable. And that's the last thing I want for you. So please... _try _to let it go. For your own sake, and mine. You have to try, okay?"

Zuko didn't say anything more. He just rolled over on his side, turning his back to her. She reached out and touched his arm, then stood.

"By the way," she said, rather abashedly. "I probably should have mentioned this before – I got a little distracted... But, um. We kinda found your mom."

Zuko jolted, and suddenly sat straight up – then he winced and clutched at his chest, and fell back, gasping. Katara knelt back down again and pulled out her healing water in a flash, pressing it into his chest.

"Calm down!" she cried. "You want to give yourself a heart-attack? You just got struck by lightning and blown up a few hours ago!"

"My mom!" he gasped. "She's really here too? I thought – I thought I was just imagining it! Where is she? Why isn't she here? How did she get here? Where has she been? HOW COULD YOU HAVE JUST SAT HERE AND TALKED TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME AND NOT SAID ANYTHING?!"

Katara couldn't help but laugh at him. "Sorry."

"And then you just casually _drop_ that on me out of nowhere!" he cried. "_You're _the one trying to kill me! Where did she go? How is she? Can I talk to her? What happened to her?"

Once she'd brought his startled heart back to a state of peaceful equilibrium again, she put away her healing water and rose to her feet once more. "Stay here," she commanded him. "I'll go get her. _Don't move_, okay? Just – _stay_."

* * *

><p>Iroh and Ursa had made their way almost around the entire perimeter of the ship, strolling slowly and silently alongside the railing – neither looking at each other, or at any of the soldiers who passed them by. The only one that Iroh responded to was Toph, who passed them near the bow and offered them a succinct greeting – and Iroh's only response was a weary nod in her direction.<p>

As they began to draw back around to the stern, Iroh suddenly looked up at Ursa. She looked as if she'd aged another ten years in the past few hours: her face was worn and haggard. Everything about her looked tired, and lost.

"What are you thinking about?" he finally asked her, softly. It was the first time he'd spoken in hours, and his rough yet gentle voice made her jump a little in surprise.

She rubbed her eyelids. "I don't know," she murmured. "Too many things."

Uncle sighed. "I fear I have lived too long."

She glanced at him, startled. "What do you mean? Why would you say that?"

He shook his gray head, grimacing, as if he were suffering a deep physical pain. His other wounds had still been bothering him now and then, but that wasn't the most severe source of pain for him at the moment.

"I fear I must have already spent my allotted portion of joy and peace in life," he tried to explain. "And now, I've lived too long – I'm living to see it all taken away. First my teashop, and now... I... _This._ I shouldn't have lived to have to..." He sighed again in anguish. "I have already had to bury a son _once..."_

He didn't finish his statement. He seemed unable to. But Ursa filled in the rest herself: _I shouldn't have lived long enough to bury two sons_. Although Zuko was really his nephew, she understood – from the stories she'd heard, and the way Iroh spoke of Zuko – that he'd essentially become a father to Zuko, over all the years she'd been gone. She felt immensely grateful to him for that; but his unfinished sentence filled her with dread. Her hands trembled and her breath caught in her throat, and she bit her lip and gazed far away, out at the tranquil sea – suddenly longing more than anything for the safety and ignorant peace of the Lion Turtle, and the Airbenders' little community.

"I," she stammered, her voice shattering. "I – I can't... What if...? Iroh – I'll – I'll tell you what I've been thinking about. Well, some of it. I've been – I've been furious at myself, because I had the chance to speak to him before – back at the palace, before all this happened – and I just stayed hidden, in the shadows, and now it might be..."

She also found she couldn't finish the sentence. So she blundered off into a different one, quickly, with sharp pain trembling in her every syllable.

"And now Azula's gone too," she whispered. "I didn't try hard enough to reach her. And it's my fault – I know it is. She thought she was a monster, because of me. I don't know what I did to her that gave her that idea, but I know that she blamed _me_. And... and look at what she's done. All of this... what's happened to Zuko... Azula did it. And she's gone now. And Zuko might be... And it's my fault."

"Ursa," he said, with deep sorrow. "You shouldn't think that way. There is no single thing in this world that is completely the fault of one person. Everything can be traced to something else – it's no use placing blame, or you'll have to blame the entire world just for existing."

"What if he doesn't wake up, Iroh?" she asked, in a barely audible hush.

They came around a corner and arrived back at the stern, on the opposite side of the infirmary. Iroh glanced across toward Zuko, and his eyes sparked with life for a moment.

"He's awake!" he cried, taking her arm and pointing. "Look!"

She did look, and saw Katara leaning over Zuko, and Zuko looking at her and speaking to her. Ursa's heart burst with a sudden new swell of life and energy.

"I need to go!" she said simply, but Iroh held her back.

"Wait," he said, staring at Zuko and Katara with a sudden grave look. "Don't go just yet. I think the two of them might need some time to talk alone."

So Ursa waited, watching, and Iroh watched as well. She watched Katara speaking to her son, and watched as her son spoke back. And though she couldn't hear the words that were said, she watched the way that Katara leaned towards him, the way she looked at him – then looked away – then looked back at him again. The way she held one hand close to her heart, while the other rested often on Zuko's arm. And Ursa watched the way that Zuko gazed up at Katara as they spoke. And though she couldn't hear, Ursa suddenly understood. She glanced at Iroh, and saw that he understood as well. His expression was somber, and trouble lurked in his eyes.

"But," Ursa whispered, frowning, "Iroh – isn't she in love with the Avatar?"

He glanced at her, rather sorrowfully, and merely sighed.

A strange barrage of emotions swept over Ursa suddenly: bewilderment, concern, sadness, and – mostly – something akin to resentment. She looked back at the two of them, and glowered fiercely.

"I _would_ say that this is all my fault," Iroh commented wearily, "if I hadn't just given you that speech about the uselessness of placing blame."

"I don't understand," Ursa stammered.

"I've been afraid of this for a long time now," he said softly. "Ursa – don't be angry. You see, Zuko lost Mai very near to the time that the Avatar disappeared. I was the one who convinced Katara to come to the Fire Nation with her son back then. I thought the two of them might help each other. Which they did. But... unfortunately, you see..."

He waved in their direction, letting the scene speak for itself. Ursa couldn't help feeling indignant; her mother instinct revolted.

"I wish she wouldn't lean so close to him," Ursa remarked quietly – almost too quiet to be heard.

"She _does _care about him, Ursa," Iroh said quietly.

Ursa set her jaw fiercely. There were many things she thought of saying, but she couldn't decide on which, so she kept silent.

"I'm – I'm not entirely sure what to do about this situation," Iroh admitted after a moment, shaking his head remorsefully. "But, perhaps you will be able to help in a way I can't, Ursa."

"Hm," she grunted, still staring at her son and the Waterbender – who was looking at him a little too much, and tilting a little too near to him when she spoke, and allowing her hand to touch his arm a little too often. And all the while the girl was probably just thinking about her Avatar, careless of what she was doing to poor Zuko. Ursa glowered yet more fiercely.

After a few minutes, the Waterbender rose to her feet, and Zuko suddenly sat up with a start – instantly falling back again. Ursa watched the girl kneel down and do something to Zuko with her healing water. Katara looked amused, for some inexplicable reason – and that made Ursa feel irate as well.

"I'm going to talk with Zuko," she declared. "The Waterbender can do whatever she wants."

Iroh didn't stop her this time, so Ursa strode across the deck with purpose. And so, when Katara left Zuko to go fetch Ursa and tell her that her son was awake, she found Ursa already coming towards her. But Ursa didn't speak to Katara, or acknowledge the younger woman's friendly greeting. She merely brushed past her, on her way to her son, without so much as a sidelong glance at her. Katara stared, bewildered and rather flustered, then glanced back at Iroh, hoping for an explanation. He only gave her a mournful look, and shrugged.

* * *

><p>As the sun finally rose, so did Appa. Momo, who'd finally run out of energy, and had curled up in a tight little ball on top of Appa's head, fell off with a small thud as Appa got up and yawned, shaking his great furry head lethargically.<p>

Sokka, who'd also fallen asleep next to Appa, with Suki on one side of him, and the sleeping Tenzin and Little Ursa on the other side, stirred as soon as Appa did.

The sun was up. A new day was starting. Another day less between them and the Solstice.

"Wake up, Suki," Sokka mumbled, nudging her gently. "We should go find Katara. We're running out of time to get to the North Pole. It's time for us to go."

* * *

><p><em>You know what's a weird-looking word? "HOURS." Especially when it's in all caps. Huh. I don't know why, but it just looks weird to me.<em>

_Anyway, don't forget to review! More will hopefully be coming soon! And – holy crap – we're almost to the North Pole! (But __not__ to the end… A lot's gonna happen at the North Pole, trust me). _:D


	31. Morning

_*Sigh*… So. Once again, a long chapter has been split into two! I'm sorry it's been a little while since the last update. I've been writing on-and-off in my increasingly rare free time, and things just kept expanding, and… and… things! And after that last really long chapter, I really didn't want to have another super-long one._

_Plus, I felt like the stuff that happens here is significant enough to deserve its own chapter, and setting it apart is probably just better aesthetically too. I'm sorry if anyone still feels the plot's not moving fast enough – it's just that there are so many characters, and so many complicated emotions everywhere, and I really want to do justice to everything! Honestly, I'm also just bad at leaving things out... I'm like the Peter Jackson of fanfiction. _All_ the details are important, I tell you! _:D_  
><em>

_Ahem, HOWEVER – I can safely say that the next chapter will be posted __very__ soon, since it's practically finished already. And oh man... I'm so hyped about some things that are coming up!_ *Squee!*

_Geez, I love this story. I'm so glad I decided to finish it. _^_^

_Oh, and once again, thanks for all the reviews everyone! I really, __really__ appreciate all the various thoughts people have given me about the story. Whenever I log in and see that there are new reviews, it just makes my whole day. _:D

Aang: *_glares at Rain&Roses_*  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "What's wrong, Aang? You seem a little... not happy."<br>Aang: "Well... Ahem. I didn't much care for some things that happened in that last chapter." :(  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh. Sorry... Want another custard tart?"<br>Aang: "No, I'm not really hungry."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "..."<br>Aang: "..."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Um... so, yeah. Story!"<p>

* * *

><p><strong>MORNING<strong>

As the first pale light of morning brushed across the ship, sweeping away the last remnants of the long difficult night in subtle silence, Ursa strode across the stern to speak to her son, and Zuko sat up and saw his mother for the first time in sixteen years – and then there was a strange, singular moment when everything quietly merged together at once, and many different pairs of eyes all simultaneously became riveted on the scene.

Katara watched Ursa go to Zuko, stunned and perplexed by the older woman's sudden coldness towards her. But she watched, transfixed, as Ursa went; and her heart stirred with unsettling bewilderment and a strange unexpected feeling of alienation.

Iroh watched as well, also longing to go speak to Zuko – but not yet. He held back, keeping his distance for now, giving them the space they deserved, feeling equal parts of great joy and great anxiety on their behalf.

And at the far end of the stern, Sokka – who'd just awoken and was rising to go find his sister – saw from a distance, in the vague dusky light, the silhouette of Ursa walking across the ship to her son, and he paused, suddenly aware that something rather momentous was happening – something more momentous than he could fully know – but it was happening all with such simple, understated quietness that it could easily have gone unnoticed.

And a little ways down the deck in the opposite direction, Yonten, walking slowly, having not slept very well for some reason – or possibly several reasons – also witnessed the moment that Ursa and Zuko finally came face-to-face once again. And he watched, unaware that others were also watching. He stopped walking, and stopped moving. Leaned against the wall beside him. Breathed slowly. And just watched.

Watched her, and her son.

Found he could do nothing else but be still, and watch.

* * *

><p>When Ursa brushed frigidly past Katara, her steps were full of certainty and authority, and she kept her eyes fixed on her son – <em>her <em>son, whom she loved better than anyone else, whose fragile heart would not be broken by any thoughtless Waterbending tease. Not on her watch.

Admittedly, she was feeling worn and exhausted, and her indignation was instinctive, an uncontrollable reflex. A powerful – and not entirely reasonable – urge to run to her son and be his protector, to earn back the role of protector that she'd forfeited sixteen years ago when she left him, and to shelter him from... from... whatever it was he needed sheltering from. To see that no potential harm even came near him ever again.

But once Katara was behind her, out of sight, the troublemaking Waterbender's existence instantly ceased to matter. Ursa's attention shifted entirely to Zuko, and the girl quickly vanished from her thoughts, and her snarling protective instinct was rapidly smothered by a sudden hurricane of other anxious emotions, all which quickly drained the confidence out of her steps.

He was looking at her now. He saw her. He was staring.

What was she going to say to him?

She was already two steps closer to him – He was staring at her – Three steps closer – What was he thinking about? – Four, five, six –

What should she say? What would _he _say?

As she drew nearer, Ursa suddenly began to feel profoundly foolish, and every step she took grew more hesitant and anxious. Her previous protective urge especially felt foolish. She wanted to protect him? She was the one who'd abandoned him! What right did she think she had...?

She was almost there.

_What was she going to say?_

She had to think of something, quickly – quickly. She had to say something to him. But what? There was so much – _so much_ – hundreds, thousands of things she wanted to say to him. Words of love and comfort and regret and joy. Questions about his life, pleas for forgiveness. Stories about her own life. Everything she'd never been able to share with him throughout the years. But what would be best to tell him first? What if _he _spoke first? What if he _didn't_? None of her words were right. She had too much to say. She had nothing to say. She couldn't think of anything at all.

* * *

><p>Moments before, after Katara left him, Zuko squinted through the hazy morning fog and saw the ghostly shape of a woman approaching him across the deck.<p>

It was her. Really, truly, tangibly _her_ – alive, real, flesh-and-bones – not a dream, not a memory – older, different, yet unchanged. It actually _was _her.

His mother. _His mother._

She was coming towards him! What was he going to say?

Had he not been constrained by the current weakness of his own body, he would have been on his feet running to meet her, to throw his arms around her and assure himself that she actually was real. As it was, he simply did his best to push himself up into a sitting position, bursting with impatience, staring intently, trying to see her more clearly, wondering why she was walking so slowly, almost afraid to believe she was really there. After sixteen years of futile searching and wondering, here she was, out of nowhere, returned to existence, coming to talk with him as if it were ordinary as could be.

Why didn't she walk faster? His stomach churned anxiously. Was she not excited to see him? Why didn't she run? He would have been running, if he was her. He was overflowing with a million things he wanted to tell her, questions he wanted to ask.

Where had she been? _Where had she been?_

Why had she never come back? Had something kept her away? Had she tried to come back? Had she chosen not to? Had she been happier on her own? Had she forgotten about him in her long absence?

It had been so long. Too long. Did she still love him the way she used to?

And _would _she? Once she learned about who he was now? Once she found out who he'd been? Once he confessed to her some of the things in his life he wasn't proud of? Did she already know about those things?

Would she be proud of him for the path he'd chosen, regardless of his many mistakes? – Or would she wish he'd done better?

What should he say first? Should he let her talk first, or should _he _start off the conversation?

Should he act excited? – Should he act casual? – Which would be better? Would she feel awkward if he acted too enthusiastic? Would she be hurt if he acted too nonchalant?

Was he over-thinking this?

What was he going to say?

Then, suddenly, she was there.

Ursa stood before Zuko, staring down at him, mouth hanging open.

Zuko gaped up at his mother, also speechless.

And, despite all the many, many things they both wanted to say – despite the fact that they'd both been imagining this moment for sixteen years – neither of them said a word for a very long time.

She carefully knelt beside him, and they stared at each other, and all the words that had seemed so anxious to be uttered instead somehow got hopelessly tangled up – confused and jumbled into nonsense – so that all that came out of their mouths was teeming, bewildered silence.

* * *

><p>Yonten leaned against the wall and kept his eyes fixed on them: she knelt beside her son, and they both gaped at each other for several minutes.<p>

He was too far away to see much more than their silhouettes – much too far away to hear what they might have said to each other. But he watched, and breathed, carefully, meticulously, laboriously. Just breathed, and tried very hard to feel all right.

"You okay?"

He jumped slightly, and glanced over his shoulder. Toph emerged from the foggy morning haze, taking a few steps toward him, her head tilted slightly in his direction.

After a reluctant pause, he murmured, "Yes." But his voice wavered slightly. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," she said gravely. "Why wouldn't you be?"

He didn't answer. For a moment, he stared at nothing but the ground. He knew he wasn't really fine, and he knew that she could tell. But he was having some trouble sorting out _why _he wasn't fine. Looking up once more at the reunion happening in the distance – at the mother and her son – he finally said, softly,

"I don't know."

Toph didn't say anything else, for now. She merely stood there, her blind eyes now turned forward, feet apart and arms crossed solemnly, with a pensive frown on her face.

"It's good that he's awake now," Yonten muttered after a moment. "She's been waiting all night... She hasn't done anything else."

"Yeah," Toph murmured. "Well, she hasn't seen him in sixteen years. It's gotta be pretty hard, not seeing your son for that long."

Yonten was silent for a few more moments. And he still watched, just watched them: the Fire Lord, and the Fire Lord's mother.

* * *

><p>Ursa gazed into her son's face, and he gawked at her, dumbfounded and overwhelmed. Her stomach fluttered with nervous self-consciousness, even terror. She wondered why he wasn't saying anything. Did his silence mean disapproval, or disappointment? Was he not happy to see her? – She worried these things, of course forgetting that she herself was saying just as much nothing as he was.<p>

He was so much older now, so different. She had no idea how to read his expressions anymore. She had no idea what kind of person he was now.

And yet, something in his face was exactly the same as it had always been. Her brave, good-hearted Zuko. The look in his eyes now was almost the exact same one she remembered from the night she'd said good-bye to him: simple, baffled, earnest puzzlement – though he was, at least, more awake this time. But it was still almost as if they were resuming just where they'd left off.

He looked so much like his father now.

And yet – _no_. Not at all. He was nothing like his father. He had none of that calculating, manipulating gleam in his eyes that she remembered seeing so often in Ozai's.

He looked like his father, but he didn't. He looked like his young self, but he didn't. There was one significant difference, especially. One she'd noticed weeks ago – she could hardly help noticing, though she hadn't given it much thought – but now that she saw it exposed for the first time in the clear light of morning, it seemed much more significant than she'd realized.

Almost without knowing what she was doing, Ursa reached her hand out toward Zuko's face – towards his scar – wondering...

But then she stopped. A flush of mortification rose into her face. Her fingers hovered just above his skin.

Zuko didn't flinch or recoil from her hand. But she felt him stop breathing; and she saw him flush as well. She thought he must be embarrassed or insulted by her strange gesture.

Really, it wasn't that he was insulted; he was just suddenly ashamed. Ashamed that the first thing she saw was his scar. Ashamed that he couldn't appear to her the way he'd been when she last saw him – still innocent and unscarred. It was the first time he'd been really ashamed of his scar in eight years.

Ursa felt ashamed as well, though she forgot to draw her hand back, and it still lingered just near Zuko's face, reaching for him but afraid to make contact. She wished she hadn't drawn any attention to the scar. Why had she done that? Yes, she _had _been wondering about it, but only in the back of her mind up until now. She hadn't planned to bring it up until much later – possibly never. She'd assumed Zuko wouldn't want to talk about it. She'd believed that she didn't really want to know.

But apparently she did.

"Did – " Her anxious whisper trembled, and her fingers still hovered over his blemished face. "Did your father...?"

She couldn't finish, and felt bewildered at herself. That was certainly not the first question she'd _planned _to ask him, or imagined herself asking him when she'd envisioned this moment before. And suddenly, it occurred to her that she'd just wasted her first question, ruined their first exchange of words. Why hadn't she said something more profound, or comforting, or memorable?

He didn't say anything at first. Just stared at her, gravely – sadly – and slowly nodded.

Finally, she forced herself to pull her hand away, without touching him, and she dropped her eyes to the ground, seething with bitter rage and painful grief.

He was still gazing at her, barely breathing, as if she were some kind of specter. He was still flushing, though his initial shame was dissipating. Furrowing his brow suddenly, still gaping at her, he asked her a question he'd been wondering about for years and years – though it, also, was certainly _not_ the first question he'd imagined he would ask her when he finally saw her again.

"Why did you marry him?"

She glanced at him, with a regretful sigh. "I loved him once," she confessed, in a barely audible whisper. "I'm sure it's hard for you to understand why, but that's the truth."

"He burned my face and banished me when I was thirteen," Zuko whispered, almost in a daze, hardly aware of why he was telling her this – vaguely conscious that he, too, was wasting his first moments of reunion with his mother, by talking about his father. But he couldn't help it.

Ursa gazed at him in deep anguish, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"I should have been there," she whispered fiercely, barely breathing in her fury and shame. "I should have been there to protect you. I'm – Oh, Zuko, I'm – I'm so sorry – "

With a gentle glow in his eyes, Zuko touched his mother's hand briefly. She looked back at him, shuddering with tears. And then, without a word, he suddenly reached his arms up for her, like a small child silently demanding to be held.

She instantly engulfed him in her arms, clutching him tremulously and choking on a sob.

And he wrapped his arms around his mother and clung to her tightly, buried his face in her shoulder, and very abruptly dissolved into tears: broken, unruly, childlike tears. Tears that he hadn't allowed himself to shed for almost his entire life. He'd been saving them – saving them precisely for this moment.

Ursa gasped, quivering as she held him. He was so big now, so grown up – it was harder now to get her arms all the way around him. But she did, and she held him tight.

"Mom…" he gasped hoarsely, quaking and sobbing violently into her shoulder.

"Sh, darling," she breathed, weeping uncontrollably as well. "I'm here. It's all right."

"I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

"I looked for you everywhere, but you weren't – "

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Quivering with emotion, he squeezed her tighter, and then finally rasped, "Where _were _you?"

For a moment, she only bit her lip and didn't reply. But then she released him from her hug and leaned back slightly to take in the sight of him, and smiled softly and sorrowfully.

"Somewhere apart from the world," she finally whispered. "I forgot who I was, for a time. But I never forgot about you. And now I'm here again. I'm here, Zuko. And I promise I'll never leave you again."

* * *

><p>"Can I confess something to you, Toph?" Yonten asked suddenly, as he watched the Fire Lord's mother engulf her son in a fervent hug.<p>

"As long as it's not about me," Toph smirked slightly. "Sure. What's up?"

He sighed heavily, still watching them. "Ever since I left the other Airbenders, I haven't... I haven't been able to shake the feeling of being an outsider. Always apart from everything."

She shifted her feet, furrowing her brow in slight surprise. That wasn't exactly what she'd expected him to say.

"I don't think I truly belong in this world," he went on mournfully. "But I can't go back to the world I belonged to before. You, and Katara and Sokka – all of you – you share something that I can never really be a part of, no matter how kind you all might be to me. You belong to each other, like a family. And I've been fighting to ignore it, but the entire time I've been here, I've felt as if I were intruding somehow. Like an unwelcome guest. But I couldn't do anything else. There was nowhere else for me to go."

Toph couldn't help feeling a little ashamed suddenly. Ashamed, because something about what he said rang true. Because she and Sokka especially had been the ones who'd initially resented Yonten's intrusion into the gang. And because, for the first few days after she'd met him, she'd thought of him instinctively as "the impostor": the Airbender who wasn't Aang.

But she didn't think of him that way anymore. And she didn't think anyone else in the group did, either; not even Sokka.

Perhaps she should have told him so, but she kept quiet.

"It's rather ironic, really," he murmured. "All my life, I was so anxious to leave that place. Fly away and see the world. I never even considered the idea that what I had there, with the other Airbenders – that comfort and familiarity and – I don't know what the word is – that _belonging_-ness – was something I would never be able to find anywhere else."

"Well," she finally spoke up, in a feeble attempt at consolation, "I mean – don't be... Um, I mean, you haven't really..."

He glanced at her. She frowned at herself, and felt rather awkward, and scratched her head.

"You know what, just keep talking, Pipsqueak," she stammered. "I don't know what I was saying."

"Well," he went on after a moment, barely audible, "I suppose the reason this is all bothering me so much now is that... Back at the palace, when we ran into – into _her_ – when I first saw that she was here, I... For a small moment, then, I felt perhaps that finally, _I _would have someone. You all would have each other, but there would finally be someone around who was... who was _mine_. Who belonged to what I knew. And everything would be a bit better." He sighed again. "I don't know if this makes any sense – "

"Don't worry about it. Keep going."

Yonten paused briefly, still watching Ursa and Zuko, and slowly shook his head. "It's difficult to explain, but – now, after tonight especially – looking at them now – I just... I only feel like more of an outsider than ever before. Watching all this. Her, and her son. He's _her son_. And I'm only... I – I don't know. I don't even know what name to call her now."

The last sentence shattered slightly as he spoke it. Toph, once again, felt some obligation to try to say something nice – something to make him stop feeling sad. But she had nothing to say. And, then, she thought, maybe she shouldn't say anything after all. Maybe that was wrong, that urge to immediately try to dispel all unpleasant feelings. Maybe that was only a cowardly thing to do.

"I'm sorry," Yonten said sheepishly after a moment. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, telling you all this. I suppose I just needed to say it to someone."

"Well," she said carefully, "I don't really know what to tell you. I mean, I was an only child. Most days I wished my parents paid _less _attention to me. So, it's a little hard for me to relate to something like this."

He sighed again, rather shakily. "It's not that I feel envious or anything," he murmured. "That isn't really it. I only feel... _demoted_, somehow."

"Yeah," she replied thoughtfully. "I guess I could understand that."

"Is it wrong?" he asked, glancing at her again. "Do you think that it might be wrong for me to feel this way? I think I ought to be happy, for her sake if nothing else. But I simply can't bring myself to be. Not yet, at least."

Toph still wasn't sure what to say. What did he want? Some kind of relief? Something wise and insightful? That wasn't exactly her expertise. But then again – maybe simple, blunt honesty would suffice. She _was _good at that.

"Well," she said slowly. "Yeah. Maybe it _is _a little bit wrong. But what's wrong with that? I don't think you should worry about it, honestly. Just feel however you feel, even if it doesn't really match how you think you're supposed to feel. There aren't any rules for this sort of thing, you know."

He stared at her for a moment, silently.

"And anyway," she shrugged, a little awkwardly. "If there _were _rules for how to handle this sort of thing, I'd probably be the one telling you to go ahead and break them. Rules are just invisible walls begging to be broken. Keeping you confined. Just like shoes."

He smiled slightly at that, but then dropped his eyes to the ground again with heavy remorse.

"I wish you were coming with us, Toph," he said suddenly.

She sighed. "Yeah. But the ship's going to the North Pole, too. I'll get there eventually. It's not that big of a deal."

"But who will I talk to along the way?" he asked faintly, more to himself than to her.

But, of course, she still heard it, and – strangely – she caught herself blushing. And that made her feel embarrassed and slightly irritated. In fact, this entire conversation was making her uncomfortable. So she quickly turned to leave him alone, but not before giving him a swift punch in the arm.

"Ow!" he grimaced, holding his arm. "What – ? What did I do? Why do you keep doing that?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, strolling casually away down the deck.

* * *

><p>When Katara heard Iroh approaching her from behind, she turned away from watching Zuko and his mother, and glanced over her shoulder at him. But he kept his eyes fixed on the two of them.<p>

"Did I – " Katara asked hesitantly, "did I do something to make Ursa mad at me?"

He sighed wearily. "Oh, well... Not intentionally. But she'll get over it, don't worry."

Katara frowned in bewilderment. "So – so she _is _mad at me, though? Why? What did I do?"

But Iroh just shook his head slowly.

Katara frowned more deeply, feeling increasingly perplexed and alienated and troubled, with a growing sense of her own indignation. Ursa was mad at her? What gave Ursa the right to snub her like this? After she'd spent all night – _all night_ – without sleep (not that she would have slept anyway, but still) – healing everyone, working especially hard to heal Zuko... Now his mother was shoving her aside, giving her the cold shoulder for no reason? How was that at all fair? Shouldn't Ursa have been _grateful_ that she'd saved her son's life?

"What did you and Zuko talk about?" Iroh asked her after a moment.

Katara instantly flushed, all her thoughts about Ursa abruptly evaporating. Her hand shot into her pocket, protectively grasping the betrothal necklace.

"Um," she stammered. "Not much. Just... some things."

"Katara." Iroh gave her a stern look. "I know you might not be entirely comfortable talking about this, but... about you and Zuko – "

"How've you been feeling, Uncle?" she asked hastily, flushing yet more violently. She took him by the arm and began to lead him away from Zuko and Ursa. "I can, um – I can take another look at your injuries now, if you want. I know I haven't had much of a chance, with everything that's been... But I think it might be a good idea to – "

"No," he insisted, shaking his head again. "I _am _still having some slight pains, but I don't think I want any more healing at the moment. We need to talk."

"Uncle," she growled, shutting her eyes fiercely and squeezing the necklace tightly in her fist. "Just – _don't_, all right? I've got it under control."

"I'm only concerned about – "

"Look, I know, okay?" she interrupted him impatiently. "I know what you're probably thinking. And yes – Zuko's great. I love Zuko. But it's not like... He really shouldn't have... It's not my fault. I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Didn't do what on purpose?" he asked, furrowing his brow at her.

"I – I don't know. Whatever you think I did... But it doesn't matter anyway! It's irrelevant. Because Aang's the one that – he's – He's coming back. I'm going to get him back. I _have _to save him. I've made up my mind, all right? I made it up a long time ago, and it's still the same. I _have _to save him. I'm not changing my mind. I'm _not_."

He suddenly seemed rather surprised, and gave her a very somber, penetrating look.

"Well, I've only been worried about Zuko's feelings, actually," he said carefully. "I never thought that _you _had any doubts about... Or do you?"

She furrowed her brow at him fiercely. "No!" she cried. "No, I don't! I just said – "

"Katara. Tell me the truth. What's wrong? Are you having doubts about anything?"

She bit her lip, and exhaled sharply, and clutched Aang's necklace near to her heart. A couple of bitter tears trickled from her eyelids.

"I don't – " she stumbled. "I don't know... No. _No_, I'm not. I mean – not about wanting Aang back. Not about him. It's just – "

She hesitated, shaking her head violently. Iroh could almost see her many fractured selves battling within her.

"I'm... I'm worried about Tenzin, Uncle," she confessed at last, her voice wavering precariously. "I just keep thinking about Tenzin now, and it makes me worry that I shouldn't... That maybe I should just... I don't know. I mean, what if – what if I don't come back?"

Iroh kept silent for a long, thoughtful while, scrutinizing her carefully.

"But – " she went on, "but I have to go. I have to. I can't – I can't do anything else."

"I agree," he said quietly. "I believe you have to go. But I think I believe it for different reasons than you do. I'm curious to know what makes _you _believe it, Katara?"

Glancing up at him, eyes brimming with bewildered tears, she hesitated again.

"Because, I..." For a moment, she paused – frowning – unsure of herself. "I don't know. That's just the way I feel. I _have _to do this. I have to save Aang. If I don't, then..."

"Then what?"

She didn't answer, though several possible answers churned rapidly through her mind at once.

_Then I'll regret it forever._

_Then I'll never be able to make up for what I did to him._

_Then I'll never forgive myself._

_Then I'll always be unhappy._

She could have said any of those answers, and they would have been truthful. But she didn't: she couldn't speak. Because it suddenly occurred to her, in that one sudden moment, that each of her answers – every single one – was all about _herself_. All about her own peace of mind, her own atonement, and nothing else.

She hadn't thought about it until now... About why she was doing this. She'd been so sure that she was doing it for good reasons: for Aang's sake, and Tenzin's as well. But was that true?

She couldn't bear the thought of not doing it. Because then she'd have to live with the guilt forever. She'd never have Aang for her own again. She'd never get her second chance, her chance to do things over, to give him the right answer this time, to have the pleasure of being normal with him.

But it wasn't about bringing Aang back, for his own sake. It was about bringing him back for _her _sake. It was all just about _her._

A heavy feeling of dizzy sickness came over her. She couldn't speak to answer Iroh's question, because she couldn't give him an honest answer that didn't feel as if it were entirely, pathetically self-centered.

She knew Iroh wasn't attempting to talk her out of saving Aang. He'd been urging her to do it more than anyone else. And she knew also that Iroh had no idea what was going through her mind now – he wasn't trying to make some kind of point to her, or get her to reach some new insight about herself. He was only trying to understand her; he was just worried. But he'd inadvertently just made her realize something about herself that she instantly wished she could un-realize.

Without warning, following this sickening epiphany, a sudden barrage of images swept through her mind, with all the crushing emotions that accompanied them. She barely understood why they were flooding back to her now – but they did, against her will. A merciless volley.

Aang, lying in the snow with her, whispering, _We should get married sometime_. And herself, laughing lightheartedly about the idea, and he laughing just as carelessly along with her – despite the fact that they were both aware of the earnest gravity hidden in his words.

And the night they'd spent together, before everything had gone wrong. Aang in the dim firelight – anxious and awkward and vulnerable and adorable – trusting her so completely, never imagining that she could betray him or break his heart. That she _would_, only the next day.

And his proposal. And her horrible moment of overwhelming, terrified selfishness. And her utter failure to see her own selfishness and cowardice until it was too late.

Katara's head spun miserably.

She hadn't changed.

She was still as selfish as she'd been back then. And still so blind that she couldn't even see her own selfishness.

She was only doing this for herself.

"Katara?" Iroh said quietly, staring intently at her. He looked quite concerned.

She blinked, aware that her exhausted mind had drifted away for a moment, and she rubbed her weary eyelids. Everything inside her felt rotten – rotting away – decaying and crumbling in a miserable, worthless heap of nothing. The crushing, horrible certainty of her own rottenness compounded by the second: she was only doing this for herself. She couldn't deny it.

And if that was the case...

If she really was planning to abandon Tenzin, all because of her own selfish desires...

Was she supposed to be doing this?

Or had Aang been right all along? That she needed to forget him? That it would be better if she just went home and moved on her with her life, without him?

_No! No! No!_

Her every nerve pulsed, screaming at her in protest at the thought. _No! – You can't give up! Not now! Not Aang..._

Not Aang. Not him. Anyone but him.

But no one had ever successfully stolen a face back from the Face-Stealer.

And she was already running late. The Solstice was drawing near.

And Aang himself had been urging her to give up.

And she was only going because of herself.

But if she went, she'd never come back.

She'd never come back.

And Tenzin needed her. Tenzin _needed _her.

And... there was always Zuko –

_No, no!_ – What was she thinking? All her thoughts, especially the last one, felt completely, repulsively wrong in a million different ways. What was the matter with her? How could she even _think_ about thinking about this?

She shook her head dizzily, feeling nauseous and disgusting and alienated from herself. Her heartbeat throbbed in her skull, and the deck beneath her feet seemed to be tipping sideways.

"Katara!" Iroh cried, now looking seriously concerned. "What's wrong?"

His face swam before her eyes. His voice sounded blurry in her head.

"I'm," she murmured, "I'm not feeling very well..."

"Have you gotten any sleep at all recently?" he asked her sternly.

"Well, I – " she stammered, then suddenly stopped talking. She was no longer looking at him, but gazing off at something behind him. She squinted, trying to see more clearly, frowning in confusion.

It was Tenzin. She saw Tenzin. He was awake now – up and walking around.

He was wandering around behind Iroh, a good distance away, near the great gash in the deck left from the bomb's explosion. He was carelessly strolling around the perimeter of the jagged hole, arms stretched out, balancing himself on the edge of it.

But – Katara was baffled. When had he woken up? She could have sworn he was still sleeping next to Appa. He must have woken up without anyone noticing.

Suddenly, Tenzin glanced over his shoulder at her and waved, grinning brightly. That familiar crooked grin. Aang's grin.

Then, without warning, he leaped into the hole, fluttering out of sight to the deck below.

"Tenzin!" she cried, shoving past Iroh and running to the edge of the gash. But when she looked down into the dark lower deck, she couldn't see him. He must have already run off somewhere. Well, at least he wasn't hurt. But still! What on earth did he think he was doing?

"Katara?" Iroh shouted after her in confusion.

"Hold on," she called back to him, already racing for the door that led into the ship's interior. "I'll be back – I have to go find Tenzin."

* * *

><p>Katara wandered through the narrow corridors of the ship, stumbling with exhaustion, but determined to find her son. She couldn't believe he'd just run off alone, without even saying a word to anyone! What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all? Hadn't he learned his lesson about going off alone the first time? Well, clearly not. Katara was already planning out the stern lecture she was going to give him as soon as she found him.<p>

"Tenzin!" she called, and her voice reverberated down the many hallways, deep into the darkness. "This isn't funny! _Tenzin_, you come out right this second!"

There was no reply, from anywhere. Only silence in all directions, made more oppressive by the darkness of the many endless hallways, made only more ominous by the sonorous moan of the ship's engines beneath it all.

"Tenzin!" she shouted again, feeling herself breathing rapidly, feeling herself beginning to panic slightly, despite her efforts not to. "Tenzin! I'm gonna count to three, and you'd better come out! One..."

She paused. Unbroken silence.

"Two..."

She lingered slightly longer on two. Tenzin almost always responded before she got to three – he had a deep dread of three. But still, nothing.

"Thr – "

"Where you going, Momma?"

She whirled around, heart pounding in surprise. There he was, standing in the hall just behind her, staring at her curiously with his round, blue eyes.

She gasped with relief. "There you are! What are you doing down here? You should know better than – "

"Where you going, Momma?" he asked again, in the exact same tone, with the exact same inflection.

She blinked at him, startled, and an uncanny shiver crawled up her spine.

"Tenzin?" she asked quietly, almost fearfully.

Without another word, he abruptly turned away from her and took off running in a whirlwind, vanishing into the endless darkness of the corridor.

"Tenzin!" she bellowed, feeling suddenly more furious, and taking off after him. "_Tenzin! _When I catch you, you're gonna get the punishment of a lifetime! Do you hear me?"

She chased him through the winding halls, through the dizzy darkness, until she found herself standing suddenly in a broad shaft of pale, foggy sunlight. It took her a moment, but she realized that she was now standing right beneath the great gash in the upper deck, where Tenzin had jumped in a few minutes before. He was gone now, too fast for her, so she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Her head was spinning, and she still felt rather nauseous.

"Katara!"

She glanced up. Sokka was standing on the upper deck, at the edge of the great hole, looking down at her in anxious confusion. Iroh stood beside him, also staring down at her with concern and bewilderment.

"What are you doing?" Sokka asked.

"It's – " she panted. "Tenzin – he ran off, and – "

Suddenly, she realized that there was a third figure standing on the upper deck above her, standing on the other side of Sokka, looking down through the hole at her. A figure with gray eyes and arrow tattoos, gazing down at her quietly, with a disappointed, devastated expression on his face.

It was him.

He knew.

He knew she'd betrayed him. He knew about how she'd worried for Zuko. He must have seen her talking to Zuko earlier – he must have seen everything. He knew all about her, and her selfishness, and her fears, and her guilt, and her horrible secret thoughts. She could see it in his eyes – he _knew_ – and the floor began to tip over faster beneath her feet. He loved her, and she'd betrayed him – she was still betraying him – and he saw straight through her.

She held onto the betrothal necklace as if her life would end the moment it left her fingers.

"No, you don't understand! I didn't – " she stammered, gaping up at Aang, flushing with shame, heart racing wildly. Her feet stumbled backwards, and she reeled against a wall. "It didn't mean anything – I mean – I was just trying to – It's complicated! _Don't look at me like that!_"

"Like what?" Sokka asked, frowning with deep worry, almost fear. "What are you talking about?"

But she just shook her head savagely, and turned away from them. "I'm... I have to find Tenzin. I've got to find him. He needs me. I'll be back."

And she stumbled off, running down a random hallway, hoping that it would be the one that Tenzin had gone down. She vaguely heard a loud thud behind her – and for a second she was seized with the notion that Aang was following her – but she didn't turn back. She just kept running, desperate to find Tenzin. He needed her. She couldn't leave him. He needed her.

"Katara!" someone shouted behind her. It wasn't Aang's voice. But it echoed off the walls, evolving into a million metallic repetitions of her name.

The sound rang in her head like discordant bells – like her thousands and thousands of fractured and fracturing selves, all confusedly shouting each other's names at one another. Everything felt far away and foggy – even her own limbs – and she felt herself stumbling. She felt herself tripping, and falling, and hitting the floor. But she wasn't aware that she'd fallen until after it had already happened.

"Katara, are you okay?" said the someone. It was Sokka. He was running up to her, taking her by the arm, helping her stand back up again. Because she'd fallen – oh. She'd fallen? When had that happened? But now she was standing again. And Sokka was there.

Katara swayed slightly and leaned against him. "I don't feel well..."

"What's wrong with you?" he asked fiercely, his voice severe with worry. "What are you doing? Are you okay?"

She blinked at him in confusion, and shook her head. "No, I'm – I'm fine. I just saw... Tenzin. I saw Tenzin. He ran this way. I don't know where he went, but I saw him – "

"Uh. _No_, Katara," Sokka said slowly, shaking his head at her. "Tenzin's up on the top deck. He's still sleeping."

She gaped at him, bewildered. "But – are you sure? Because I _just _saw him – "

"Yeah, I'm really sure," he nodded firmly, staring very hard at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Katara took a moment just to breathe. No. No, she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything. But she shook her head yet again, and rubbed her eyes, and forced herself back to reality.

"Yeah," she finally said, breathing deeply. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just – I'm just tired."

"Well," he said, still studying her worriedly, "I came to tell you that Appa's awake, and I think we ought to get going soon."

"To the North Pole," she stated flatly, as if she'd momentarily forgotten what their destination was.

"Um... Yeah, that's the place," he nodded, furrowing his brow at her. "You really need some sleep. You've had a long night. But don't worry – you'll have plenty of time to sleep on the way. Okay?"

"Sleep," she muttered, stirring with dread. "Right, I'm sure I'll get plenty of sleep."

But of course, she wasn't intending to sleep at all. Not after this. Not when Aang was bursting out of her subconscious mind already. She didn't dare to face him in her dreams, where she was completely out of control. She just _couldn't_.

Not now that he knew she was having second thoughts.

Not when he knew she was still as selfish as she'd ever been.

Not now that he knew she'd betrayed him.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, poor Katara is just a mess! Hey, did you guys know that staying awake for 21 straight hours is equivalent to having a blood-alcohol content of 0.8? Yay, random facts! Heh. So I guess that means in "Nightmares and Daydreams," Aang was basically drunk... Makes sense.<em>

_Geez, and how long has Katara been awake now? Probably about 30 hours. Plus all the sleep she lost before that. Poor girl! Why do I do such terrible things to characters I love? I'm sorry, Katara! _:'(


	32. Second Thoughts

_Hey everyone! Three-day update, hooray!... So, good news (I hope). Considering that my natural tendency is to spread things out too much, this time I've actually COMBINED stuff! It's a miracle, really._

_Mostly - especially after one comment I got on the previous chapter - I felt I really needed to balance out the pacing of the story. With all the meditative character interactions that have been going on (which I_ love),_ I was afraid there was going to be too much cushion between events if I didn't start moving things along faster... Which makes the first sentence of this chapter kind of ironic. Heh. __Geez, I'm so paranoid about this pacing thing, guys, you have no idea, haha. The last chapter I was paranoid about dragging things out too much. This one I'm worried about everything being too squished together. Meh – oh well! I'm doing my best. We'll see how it turns out. _:D

_I hope you all realize how much I take your reviews to heart, by the way._ ^_^

_(Also, have I mentioned that I did __not__ plan this whole Toph/Yonten thing when I first brought his character into the story? I might be having too much fun with it now, hehe__)_

Aang: "Hey, so, am I ever actually gonna come back into this story? Because I'm kinda starting to wonder..."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Soon, Aang. Very, <em>very <em>soon."  
>Aang: "I don't know if I believe you."<br>Rain&Roses: "Come on! Don't you trust me?"  
>Aang: "Well, I don't know. After some of the stuff that's been going on... I mean, look at the title of this chapter! "Second Thoughts"?! I'm just not sure you have my best interests at heart here." :( :(<br>Rain&Roses: "Oh, Aang, Aang, _Aangy..._ You're like my favorite character! I'm not gonna let you down! Now, stop worrying, and let the story do its thing." :)

* * *

><p><strong>SECOND THOUGHTS<strong>

Despite Sokka's urgency to get on their way, the morning passed, and the sun rose higher into the sky, and they still hadn't gone anywhere.

Partly, this was because they were completely out of supplies, having dumped almost everything into the sea during the storm, and Appa's saddle had to be restocked before they took off on the last leg of the journey to the North Pole.

The other part of it was that some members of the group were simply not ready to leave. Most notably _Appa_, who was unfortunately rather essential to their ability to depart. Although the bison had had a good, long sleep, he still kept dozing off now and then. And when he was awake, he made a constant fuss about anything that Sokka loaded onto his back, and even rolled over and knocked Sokka out of the saddle a couple of times.

"Appa!" Sokka growled, scrambling to his feet after the third time the bison tipped him out. "I know you're still tired, but this is _really _not funny!"

Meanwhile, Zuko spent the morning talking with his mother, and then with Uncle and Little Ursa (who, though she was immensely relieved to see her father awake again, slept more than she talked, since she'd been up for the greater portion of the night). He finally heard the story he'd been dying to hear for years: the long tale of what happened to his mother. And she learned his story as well, both from him and from Uncle, who provided an extra – and often more insightful – perspective on it all.

And, for the time being, Zuko forgot entirely about Katara – which was fine with her. She occupied her time helping Sokka load the saddle, checking up on the soldiers that she'd spent the night healing, making sure Tenzin woke up for a few minutes to eat something, and altogether doing her best to avoid Zuko, his mother, and anything that reminded her of Aang, or of how much she needed to sleep.

A couple of hours after sunrise, Katara knelt beside Suki, spreading her healing water over the blistered flesh of her burnt arm and leg. Tenzin leaned against his mother's back, yawning drowsily. And Sokka came striding up to them with an anxious look in his eyes and an equally anxious lemur on his shoulder (Momo didn't exactly know why he was so anxious; he was simply empathizing).

"Well, ladies," Sokka grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "It appears we've run into a slight logistical problem that I really probably should have thought about before now – "

"Appa can't carry everyone," Suki said immediately.

"Not in a million years," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I was wondering when that was finally going to hit you, hon," she remarked wryly.

"Well," he frowned. "We should probably get everyone together so we can talk about who's staying and who's going. I'll be back. Here, babe – take Momo. He needs some hugs." He extricated Momo from his neck and passed him off to Suki as he said this.

"Aw, poor Momo!" she crooned, taking the lemur and scratching behind his big white ears. "Is Daddy not paying enough attention to you? Hm? Is he just too busy to give you hugs? Is Momo developing a daddy-complex now? I think he is! And abandonment issues too! – Yes, he is!"

Momo nibbled on a leechi nut and gawked at Suki blankly.

But Sokka, who was already in the process of walking off to gather the others, glowered back at her over his shoulder, then turned around and snatched Momo out of her arms, with an indignant scowl.

"Woman! I'll have you know that I am a great father!" he declared. "Or – I mean, I would be, if... oh, you know what I mean! And you know what? Just for that, you lost your lemur-cuddling privileges for today!"

He marched off in a righteous huff, with the puzzled Momo in his arms. Suki snickered, glancing at Katara, who gave her a weary smile.

"When do you think he'll realize I was just trying to get out of babysitting Momo?" Suki asked her.

Katara chuckled. "Maybe in an hour or so."

When the group had been gathered together, Sokka explained the situation: time was running short, and they had a long way to go yet to the North Pole. And with currently eight adults, two children and one lemur comprising the entire group, it was absolutely impossible for everyone to get there by means of flying bison.

"In fact," Sokka added regretfully, "if we want to be sure about getting there in time, it would really be best if as few people went as possible. So – "

"I'll stay," Toph said instantly.

"No, Toph!" Katara protested in dismay. "You have to come!"

But the blind Earthbender just shook her head. "I was already planning on staying behind anyway, Katara. I should be here, just in case there's any kind of... situation. Plus, you know, you don't really need me – "

"I'll stay behind as well," Yonten suddenly spoke up.

Sokka and Katara glanced at him. And Sokka, out of the corner of his eye, saw Toph jolt slightly and turn a vibrant shade of red. He raised his eyebrows curiously at her, forgetting that she couldn't see him – and he thought of making a teasing remark – then decided to save it for later.

"Are you sure?" Katara asked Yonten.

He nodded quickly. "If Appa needs to carry as few people as possible, then I think it's best I don't go. You don't need me either, and I think there are more important people here who should have my seat."

Sokka nodded at him. "Right, okay," he sighed. "Well, that's two down. Maybe we ought to decide who absolutely _has _to go, first?"

Everyone quickly agreed that, aside from Katara, the two children ought to go, to make sure they were as safe as possible. No one specifically mentioned the name _Azula_, though everyone was thinking about her still – about the possibility that she'd somehow got back on board. The unspoken fear lurked beneath their every word.

Following this train of thought, Uncle quickly urged Zuko to go as well. Zuko immediately protested, but Uncle pointed out sternly that as the Fire Lord, Zuko's safety was imperative. And on top of that, Zuko still hadn't fully recovered from his injuries, and he ought to be with Katara just in case. Ursa quietly agreed, adding that Zuko needed to stay with his daughter as well.

Katara watched Zuko intently through this exchange, torn between desperately wanting him to come, and desperately wanting to be as far from him as possible. Zuko himself seemed deeply troubled – his eyes met Katara's briefly, and she saw all the discomfort and uncertainty seething within him. But at last, he agreed quietly that he would go.

After that, Sokka and Suki had a brief spat about which of them would stay on the ship, and which would man Appa's reins for the journey. Sokka tried to insist upon staying, preferring Suki to be safely off the ship. But both Katara and Suki protested so fiercely against this, that he eventually had to surrender.

When all that had been settled, Sokka reluctantly conceded that Appa could take maybe one more passenger. _Maybe_. And everyone's eyes turned to Iroh and Ursa.

"You mean, they can't both go?" Zuko asked Sokka anxiously.

Sokka shook his head. "I wish they could, but – I'm afraid Appa's just not gonna make it with that many people."

"Then I want to stay," Zuko declared. "I'll stay here. Let them go – one of them can have my seat."

"Zuko – " his mother said.

But he shook his head stubbornly. "I can't leave either of you behind. If you can't both go, then I'd rather stay here."

"If dad's not going, then I want to stay too!" Little Ursa declared immediately, latching onto Zuko's hand.

"Ursa – !" Zuko frowned at her sternly.

"_Dad!_" she frowned back at him, equally stubborn.

"Zuko, be reasonable about this," Uncle interjected, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "It's much more important for you to go than either one of us."

"And," Ursa added, with faint optimism, "we're all going to the North Pole. We'll see each other soon."

Zuko bit his lip, staring at both of them, and then looked away in frustration. Ursa and Iroh then glanced at each other, both hesitating.

"You should go, Ursa," said Uncle. "You and Zuko should be together."

But she shook her head, though she grimaced as if something were burning her. "No, no, Iroh. You should go. Your health still isn't very good, and – and you deserve to go with Zuko just as much as I do."

"Hmph." Iroh waved his hand dismissively. "My health isn't important at the moment. Besides, I am quite a bit… erm, _heftier_ than you are, if you haven't noticed. I'm sure Appa would prefer to carry you rather than me."

That made her smile faintly, though her eyes still swarmed with misgivings and pain. She studied Zuko sorrowfully for a moment, and his little daughter – who was still clinging protectively to his hand – and then turned her gaze to Katara. When their eyes met, Katara saw a flash of distrust in Ursa's eyes – but then, much to her surprise, it was quickly replaced by an unexpected surge of gentle sympathy that seemed even to somewhat bewilder Ursa herself.

"No," she said softly. "Neither of us should go, Iroh."

"What?" cried Zuko in distress.

She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, Zuko. I'd rather us all be together, too. But this isn't about us. This is about saving the Avatar. That's the only reason any of us are going to the North Pole at all. And – and Katara needs to get there as quickly as possible, which means that anyone who doesn't absolutely have to go should stay here."

Zuko gaped at her, thoroughly dismayed, but Iroh examined her pensively, and finally nodded.

"Ursa is right, Zuko," he said. "It would be better if both of us stayed here. We would only slow everyone down. And, anyway, if we both stay, then at least the two of us can keep each other company."

"But – " Zuko tried to argue.

"No," Ursa interrupted him firmly. "This is what's best for now, Zuko."

He stared at her, struggling with himself for a moment, then threw his arms around her. "But – but I _just _found you."

"Oh, Zuko," she sighed heavily. "It's only for a little while."

"But what if something happens?"

Toph jumped in confidently. "Nothing's going to happen! Are you all forgetting that _I'm _here? What could possibly happen with me around?"

"Don't tempt the universe, Toph," Sokka warned her grimly. "The universe has a mean sense of humor."

She just snickered and waved her hands at him. "Anyway, like we've already said a million times, we're all heading for the same place. So, it's really not a big deal. No need to act like we're never gonna see each other again."

"Seriously, Toph," Sokka said severely. "The universe! _Do. Not. Tempt!_"

"Oh, calm down, Sokka," she grinned. "It's gonna be fine. Don't worry."

"Well, then, I guess all that's left is to decide who Momo'll go with," Suki spoke up, scooping Momo up off the ground and grinning slightly. "The most crucial question of all!"

Sokka just rolled his eyes, pulled a copper piece out of his pocket, and flipped it. "Tails – Momo stays with you, Mommy. There. That was easy."

"But what about his abandonment issues, Daddy?" she held Momo out to Sokka, making a pouty face at him.

"I think he'll get over it," Sokka chuckled.

* * *

><p>After all this had been decided, several sorrowful good-byes were exchanged, and at last Appa took off once again, with Katara, Zuko and the two children in his saddle, and Sokka at the reins. Everyone else stood on the deck of the ship and waved good-bye until the bison vanished from their sight, melting into the whiteness of the clouds.<p>

The final stretch of the journey had begun.

Katara sat beside Tenzin, who - still exhausted from staying up most of the night - passed out almost the instant that Appa took off. Zuko, still sore and suffering from his earlier injuries, stretched himself out in the saddle and fell asleep as well, with his drowsy daughter slumbering beside him.

Slumping against the side of the saddle, Katara envied the peaceful sleep that everyone except her seemed able to enjoy. She gazed blearily out, blinking with furious determination not to drift off, reminding herself that the strange, half-real glimpses she caught of an Airbender gliding through the clouds alongside them were all in her head. Not real. Just in her head.

She didn't dare to think about what lay at the end of this journey.

She didn't dare confess to anyone that she was very seriously toying with the idea of not going through with it.

But still, at the same time - now they were really, truly on their way. No more stops, no more distractions. All that was left was to get there. And - if she wasn't ready to do this, wouldn't it be better to tell someone _now_, before they got any farther? Shouldn't she at least tell Sokka?

But she couldn't. If she told someone - if she told Sokka - then he might agree. He might be too easily convinced to turn around and take her home, and forget this whole thing. What she needed was someone to talk her back into it, to tell her she was just losing her mind, not thinking clearly, and to convince her to see the journey out to the end. But she didn't trust Sokka to do that.

And she certainly didn't trust Zuko to do it. He'd probably be overjoyed if he knew she was having the tiniest inkling of second thoughts.

How could she turn back now? After they'd come so far - after everything? How could she even _think_ of...?

And yet -

Tenzin slept beside her, nestled in the crook of her arm. So small and helpless. She brushed her fingers quietly through his hair. What would he do without her? How could she leave him? How could she leave him, knowing that no one who'd ever attempted to do what she was trying to do had succeeded? After she'd already been warned several times that she wasn't coming back.

Katara shuddered.

No one had ever done it before. What chance did she have?

She already knew how this was going to end. In her futile, pathetic attempt to save Aang, she'd get her own face stolen. Her weary mind conjured up the image of the Face-Stealer's centipede-like bulk, the shadow that lurked in so many of her nightmares. She could imagine its claws on her skin. But she couldn't imagine losing her face.

What would it be like? What would it feel like? Would she feel any pain? Would she even know what had happened to her? Would she know that she was lost, faceless? Not dead, not alive; something in between. Lost forever. Just like Aang. Would she be aware - forever aware of her own terrible, faceless existence?

What about Aang? Was he aware?

The thought of it was too awful to linger on: it made her feel as if she were drowning. Aang - blithe, bright-eyed, wise, foolish, powerful, gentle Aang - forever faceless, forever un-alive, and forever aware of it. Alone and broken-hearted and dreadfully, nightmarishly, excruciatingly _aware_...

And she was thinking of turning back? Her chest burned and her limbs quaked. How could she leave him to such a horrifying fate, without even _trying_? She couldn't. _She couldn't_. The very thought of it was almost as devastatingly dreadful as the prospect of meeting the same fate herself.

But - she wouldn't be able to save him. She was never coming back. He'd told her so.

She'd try, and she would fail. She wasn't on her way to save him, just to join him.

How could she still go after him, after being warned that she was doomed to fail? Only a complete idiot, or someone with a death wish, would do such a thing!

And it wasn't just herself at stake, but Tenzin. He'd wait hopefully for her to return in triumph, but would find himself alone, for the rest of his life. She'd never see him again. He'd be an orphan, always wondering what had become of her, always wishing that she'd never gone. Angry at her for leaving him alone.

How could she do that to him, when she herself knew all too well what it felt like to be alone? When she'd lost her own mother at his age, when her father had left her and Sokka to take care of themselves, to take care of the tribe, on their own, while they were hardly more than children? She knew that feeling - the feeling of facing the world with only her own shaky strength to stand on. The pain of the never-answered question: why? Why am I alone?

When she was younger, she'd let herself be bitter at her father for leaving them alone; she'd allowed her anger to fester and grow, more than she'd even realized, so that when she was finally reunited with him, she'd hardly been able to _look _at him for weeks. And he'd had a good reason to leave them: to go fight in the war. A reason beyond himself, beyond his own desires.

She'd known that then. She'd understood why he left. Yet she'd still been angry. It had hurt her that deeply.

She'd never wish that kind of pain on anyone. She always swore she'd never allow her own children to know that feeling.

But now she was leaving Tenzin, and she didn't even think she had a good reason - not like her father's reason. She was only doing this for herself. Not for the world. Not even for Aang, or Tenzin. Just for herself.

Of course, Tenzin wanted her to go. Now he did; but what about later? What about when she never came back? He was still too young now. He didn't understand. He couldn't grasp the concept that she'd fail, that she wouldn't return. He only wanted to have his father back. But as he got older, as he grew up alone, he'd eventually begin to see how selfish she'd been. He'd think, _She should have known better. I was too young to understand. She was the adult - she should have known better than to go._

She couldn't bear to think of Tenzin growing up alone, abandoned. She couldn't bear to think of herself, missing out on his life. She didn't want Tenzin to grow up alone.

Aang wouldn't want Tenzin to grow up alone.

Aang wouldn't want her to do this.

... But.

_Aang_.

How could she not do this?

Katara groaned, burying her face miserably in her hands, wishing desperately for something - _anything _- to be just simple black-and-white for a change. Just something _concrete._

Strangely, out of nowhere, a sudden image flashed into her mind - shockingly vivid - a memory from years ago. Aang, only twelve years old, facing down a volcano, standing strong and powerful, a small black silhouette against the fiery glow of lava.

Katara had no idea why that particular memory had surfaced just now. But she remembered that moment: watching him, feeling scared for him, wanting to protect him, yet also being awed by him, astonished by how powerful he really was.

When was that? Where had they been? Oh, right. That ridiculous village, with that fortune-teller - what was her name? - Aunt Wu. The poor woman that Katara, in her eager youthful foolishness, had plagued and pestered almost to the point of driving her mad. She could still recall the fortune-teller's prediction that one day she would marry a very powerful bender.

She remembered standing by Sokka in the street, watching Aang subdue the volcano, hearing Sokka remark beside her:

_Aang is one powerful bender._

And she remembered that that was the first time she'd ever actually wondered about the possibility - the idea that she might one day marry Aang.

She remembered how strange the idea had seemed to her at the time. Not inconceivable, just unexpected. It had made her uncomfortable; and yet, there'd been something else, even back then... Something that she wanted, even if she wasn't yet comfortable with the realization that she wanted it.

Before that moment, he'd been many things to her. Her best friend. Her greatest source of worry. Her greatest source of hope. And he'd remained all those things to her afterward. But that day, with that volcano - she remembered - _that _was the moment that had really started her wondering.

And now, in the present, Katara leaned back in the saddle and wondered again, and her sleepy mind latched blindly on to the memory.

Suppose - she could hardly believe she was thinking this - but suppose the fortune-teller's prediction was true, after all? And suppose it _had _actually been about Aang?

She'd been with him. He'd asked her to marry him. But she hadn't married him. Yet the fortune had been about the man she was supposed to marry. Was that something? Did that mean she was actually destined now to save Aang, and marry him? Was it inevitable that she would succeed? The fortune couldn't come true otherwise... Her heart skipped for a moment with a feeble burst of hope. Was that something she could hold on to?

Or - or - a more painful thought suddenly occurred to her. What if she'd already been given her only chance, and she'd thrown it away when she rejected him? Was that possible? Could she _do _that - just throw away her destiny? And now any attempt at a second chance was doomed to failure?

Or... suppose the fortune wasn't about Aang at all. Suppose it had never been about Aang.

Katara glanced at Zuko.

And something broke inside her heart, with an agonizing crack. It hurt - it _demolished_ her - to imagine that it could be about anyone but Aang. She wanted it to be about Aang, more than anything. But what if she was wrong...?

Suddenly, she shook her head fiercely, and blinked several times, dragging her mind back to reality. _What am I even thinking about?_

This was absurd. This was nonsense. A silly fortune from years ago? What did that matter now?

She was just tired. _So _tired. She didn't know what she was thinking about anymore.

As every inch of herself ached deeply with fatigue and regret, Katara reached into her pocket, fingers groping for the familiar comfort of the betrothal necklace.

But it wasn't there.

Her entire body went cold in an instant.

The necklace wasn't there.

Panicking, she thrust her hands into her other pocket - felt around her neck - searched the folds of her clothes, her hair, her shoes, _anywhere_. It wasn't there. It was nowhere. It was gone. Her stomach boiled. Her heart halted mid-beat.

She scrambled up, jostling Tenzin awake in her panic, crawling across the saddle to scour desperately through the saddlebags.

"Momma?" Tenzin mumbled, rubbing his eyes in bewilderment.

"It's gone," she gasped, sucking in air with increasing frantic haste. "It's gone! It's _gone! _No, no, no! It has to be here! _It has to be!_"

"What's wrong?" Sokka asked, glancing back over his shoulder at her with a concerned frown.

"It's gone!" she screeched, grasping at her hair and struggling to breathe. She tore open the saddlebags in violent panic. "No, no! It can't be gone! It can't be! Where is it?"

"What's gone?" Sokka cried, turning fully around now, wide-eyed with worry. "What are you looking for?"

"What's the matter?" Zuko murmured, stirring awake at Katara's commotion. Ursa woke up too, yawning sleepily.

"Momma, what's going on?" Tenzin asked in hazy confusion.

Katara couldn't answer any of them. She only fell back in the saddle, pulling her knees into herself, quivering head to toe, clutching at her hair, at her neck, at her clothes. Breathing, breathing, breathing - rapid and frantic.

It wasn't here. She lost it. The necklace she'd promised to hold on to until he came back. She lost it.

What if it had fallen into the ocean? What if it was currently sinking deep into those dark, impenetrable depths, never to be retrieved, lost for all time?

Everything in her felt like screaming, weeping, shriveling up and dying. There was no hope now. She'd broken her promise. It was gone. It was a sign - it was a sign. That was the end. It was lost forever.

But - No, no, it couldn't be! It had to be back on the ship. That was where it was. It had to be.

"We need to go back," she stated suddenly.

"What?" Sokka and Tenzin cried simultaneously. Zuko pushed himself up and stared at her, baffled.

"We have to go back to the ship!" she screamed. "Sokka - turn Appa around! We have to go back!"

"Katara!" Sokka shouted. "We don't have time! Why do you want to go back?"

She bit her lip, and breathed, and breathed, and twisted her hair frantically in her fingers. Tears flooded her eyes, overtaking her without warning.

"It's gone," she gasped, voice quivering. "I lost it. It's gone."

"What's gone?" Zuko asked her.

"What's going on?" Ursa asked confusedly.

"Momma, what is it? Why do you want to go back?" Tenzin demanded in fright.

"The necklace," she choked, struggling to suppress her tears. "It's not here. We have to go back. I have to find it. It has to be on the ship! That's where I had it last - it has to be there! It has to be!"

Sokka furrowed his brow at her. "What necklace? Gran Gran's?"

"No," Zuko murmured, glancing at Sokka gravely. "Aang's."

Sokka stared at Zuko, realization dawning on him. Of course. _That _necklace. The one she'd told him about back in the Fire Nation. The betrothal necklace Aang had given her. The one she'd held onto secretly for five years.

He turned his gaze upon Katara. She was gaping at him, wide-eyed, panicking, pleading.

Hurting on her behalf, he gave her a sympathetic frown, but shook his head.

"Katara," he said softly. "We can't turn back. We can't waste time trying to find your necklace. We're already running late - "

Then, all at once, Katara broke before his eyes: she _broke_. Too exhausted and confused to hold back the tears, she erupted, sobbing wildly and helplessly. Everyone stared at her, deeply unsettled - Sokka was especially disconcerted. Ordinarily, she was the one in control, more in control than anyone around her. She was the one who took care of everyone. But suddenly, now, it was as if she'd been transformed into a small child in an instant.

"But - " she moaned, "but I need it..."

"I'm sure someone will find it," Ursa said gently, touching her arm.

Tenzin and Zuko were both simply gawking at her, astonished at how abruptly she'd fallen apart. And Tenzin was breathing faster, beginning to panic himself, unaccustomed to seeing his mother in such a shattered state - dreading more and more what she was going to say next, what she was thinking.

"Katara," Zuko said carefully, "I know you're upset, but - it's just a necklace."

She shook her head fiercely, groaning. "No! _No!_ No, it's not! It's not just a necklace. It's..."

She trailed off, unsure what she meant to say, unable to put her words together properly. Everyone stared at her, anxious and expectant, worried, wondering what she'd say next. Katara didn't know how to finish her sentence. They didn't understand. No one understood. It wasn't just a necklace. It was... it was _everything_. It was her mistake, and her hope. It was the promise she'd made, to herself, and to Aang. It was everything she could have had back then. It was everything she wanted now. It was _Aang._

And it was lost. Gone.

_Forever_. The terrible inevitability overwhelmed her. She'd never get it back. She knew she wouldn't. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. She'd lost it, forever.

That was it. It was a sign. Black-and-white, straightforward. This was all hopeless.

"I can't do this," she whispered suddenly.

"What?" said everyone.

"I can't do this!" she cried again, dissolving into wild despair. "Sokka – I can't go. I can't go to the Spirit World. I can't save Aang. It's too late - it's not right. I can't. We need to go back. I can't do this - "

"_What?_" Sokka and Zuko both exclaimed again, with different mixtures of confusion and alarm. But Tenzin outdid them both with a panicked, furious bellow.

"_No!_" he roared, grasping at Katara's arm desperately, tears streaming down his face. "Momma, stop! Stop talking! Don't say that! _Don't! _I knew you were going to – I knew you'd... You _have _to go! You have to!"

"Tenzin – " she tried, but he wouldn't let her argue.

"_NO!_" he screamed again, more ferociously, quivering with his frantic urgency. "You can't just give up! You can't! How can you - ? What's wrong with you? Don't you care? You _have _to go! You have to save daddy!"

"I _can't_!" she shouted back at him, staring him fiercely and desperately in the eyes. "I can't! It's too late, and I won't – "

"No, it's not!" he cried, staring back at her just as stubbornly and insistently. "It's not too late! It's not the Solstice yet! Yonten said the Solstice, remember? You can't just – !"

"Tenzin, calm down!" Sokka tried to interject.

"But – !" He turned and fixed Sokka with a look of pleading anguish. "But – she's wrong! _She's wrong!_ Tell her she's wrong, Uncle Sokka! – Zuko! Help me! Tell her!"

"You don't understand, Tenzin!" Katara burst out, before either Sokka or Zuko could respond.

"You're wrong, Momma!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! You're too young to – "

"_No, I'm not!_" he thundered, trembling with fury. "I'm not too young! I know what's supposed to happen! I _know_ you have to go! You're just not thinking right – "

"What if I don't come back?" she demanded. "What if something happens to me? Did you think about that?"

"You _will _come back!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do! You have to! You'll save daddy and come back, and it'll be all right! I _know_ it, Momma! You'll do it! You have to! You're the only one who can, remember?"

"_Tenzin_!" Katara snarled, sobbing and grinding her teeth and gripping him beseechingly by the arms. "I can't – I can't do everything! I'm just a _person_, all right? I don't even know – I don't even know _how _to save him – and if I go, then I'm not coming back! If I go, that'll be the end – I won't come back, and you'll be all alone! Do you understand that? Do you want to be alone?"

He was gaping at her, gasping and trembling and weeping violently.

"You think you're gonna die?" he asked after a moment, his voice only a tremulous whisper now.

"I don't know," she choked, also shedding wretched tears. "I don't know. Maybe – probably – I don't know. But it could happen. It could… See? You see why I can't? Understand now, Tenzin?"

The two of them stared at each other for a long while, both shuddering and sobbing and wrestling with the turmoil. Everyone else – Sokka, Zuko and Ursa – all watched silently, mouths hanging open, dumbfounded and helpless to intervene, waiting for some kind of resolution to happen.

Tenzin's eyes softened and burned with understanding and despair for a moment, and it briefly appeared that he was going to surrender. But then – then, a few seconds passed, and he clenched his jaw and gave his mother a firm, serious look. And his previous fit of unruly panic hardened into a deep, tranquil resolve, a resigned certainty more mature than his years.

"You have to go," he said, softly and decisively. "I know you're scared, Momma. But you have to go. That's what's supposed to happen."

"Tenzin…" she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Listen," he said fiercely, pulling her hands away from her face. "It's what's supposed to happen! Yonten came all the way to tell you about how to save daddy, and if you don't do it, then… then why did any of this happen? It happened because you're supposed to! You're supposed to, and you _will_. I know you will. It's what's gonna happen."

She stared at him, hopeless and defeated, surprised by his conviction, but far from convinced herself. She couldn't fight with him anymore, though. He'd won, for now.

After a few long moments of intense silence, Sokka finally spoke up, quietly.

"Katara," he said. "What do you want to do?"

She stared straight ahead for a second or two, stared at nothing. Closed her eyes and gazed deep into herself for a while. Breathed carefully. Bit her lip. Fought, struggled, trembled. Then whispered at last,

"Just – just keep going, Sokka. Keep going. I don't want to turn back. I just panicked for a second, that's all. It's fine."

But she didn't mean it. Part of her did; but part of her didn't. She knew part of her didn't mean it – part of her was still kicking and screaming, begging her to turn back, to go home. But she smothered that part of herself into barely-contained silence. For now.

Sokka also knew that part of her didn't mean it. But, after scrutinizing her worriedly for a moment, he turned back around, sighed, and did what she said. He kept Appa headed for the North Pole. He kept going.

And Zuko just watched her for a long while, without saying a word. But she didn't look at him.

* * *

><p>"Yonten?" Ursa said softly, coming to stand at the railing beside him. "Sweetheart, are you all right? You've been keeping to yourself all day. Is anything wrong?"<p>

He glanced at her briefly, then dropped his eyes once more to the sea that churned below, colored by the rosy light of sunset.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

She gently put her hand on his shoulder. "Darling, talk to me. What's bothering you?"

He grimaced for a moment, still hurting, and sighed. "I – I don't really know _how _to talk to you anymore," he confessed, not bitterly, just sadly. "Otherwise I would."

Ursa stared at him, aggrieved at his words, but strangely unsurprised.

"I'm not even sure what name to call you now," he added, glancing at her regretfully. "I don't think I feel right calling you 'Ursa.' I know it's your real name, but – "

"_Sen_," she said firmly and immediately. "I'm Sen. Your Aunt Sen. That's who I've always been to you, for as long as we've known each other. And I'm still the same as I was. Why would you even think of calling me anything else?"

"But that isn't who you are," he argued. "I don't feel right calling you that anymore either. That isn't your name."

She studied him for a moment, and then smiled softly. "Well. Maybe it isn't my real name. But it _is _who I am. It's a part of who I am, and so are you. Just as much as Zuko is… That's what's _really_ bothering you, isn't it?"

He didn't answer.

"You didn't think I'd forgotten about you, did you?"

Looking away, he closed his eyes tightly. "Well," he whispered. "Yes. I did think that, a little."

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, putting her arms around him quietly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you. There's just been so much going on. It isn't easy coming back to your old life after sixteen years, you know. But no matter what, I hope you know you'll always have me, if you need me. I'd do anything for you."

Carefully, he hugged her back, and began to feel slightly more all right than he had before.

She held him tight, and suddenly chuckled a little, quietly.

"You probably don't remember this," she said. "But, once, when you were about six years old, I decided to sit you down and tell you that my real name wasn't Sen. And I promised to tell you my real name, if you asked. I said that you could ask me any question about myself, and I'd tell you the truth. You were a little overwhelmed, I think – you told me you'd have to give it some serious thought first. I believe those were your exact words, actually." She laughed again, remembering what an oddly solemn six-year old he'd been.

Yonten furrowed his brow thoughtfully, but didn't say anything yet.

"You didn't speak to me again for about two days," she went on. "And when you were finally ready to talk, do you know what you said?"

He looked at her. "What?"

"You said you only had one question. You wanted to know why I picked the name 'Sen,' when I could have had any name in the world. And I told you I had a great aunt named Sen, and I'd taken the name from her. And you said that was a boring answer, but you didn't have any other questions. That was all you wanted to know."

His eyes turned briefly inward, as if he were contemplating his young self – wondering why he'd only ever wanted to ask that one question. Wondering how things might have been different if he'd been more inquisitive back then.

"That was when you started calling me 'Aunt Sen,' instead of just Sen," she added, smiling gently at him. Lifting up his face, she looked him in the eye, entreating him to understand her. "I know it was a long time ago, and maybe I should have brought it up again when you were a bit older. But… I guess I never did because I always hoped that, maybe, just knowing that much would always been good enough for you."

He was quiet for a while, and then murmured, "I'm sorry I was angry at you before."

"Oh, no. Don't be sorry," she shook her head. "You were completely justified in being angry at me, dear."

"I just – I felt as if I'd lost you," he sighed. "_Again_. As if you'd died, and come back as a stranger. But this time, it was worse. It hurt even more because you were the only one I had. There's no one else here who I can feel really close to. Not like back home."

Ursa couldn't help a small, rather sly grin then. "Hm. Well," she said slowly. "What about the Earthbending girl? Toph? She seems nice. Don't you think?"

He suddenly gaped at her in surprise, blushing violently.

She just laughed at him. "Aha! See? And you thought I wasn't paying attention to you."

After a moment, he smiled a bit, but then scratched his head sheepishly. "I'm – " he stammered, frowning in bewilderment. "I don't know. I'm not sure she actually likes me all that much."

"What makes you say that?" Ursa asked, incredulous.

His perplexed frown deepened. "Well, I don't exactly know," he said. "She can be quite nice, when she feels like it. So, sometimes it seems like… But then – I don't know. She's always hitting me all the time."

Ursa laughed again. "Maybe that's her way of showing affection?"

Yonten pondered that for a moment – a brief flash of optimism crossed his features – and then he scrunched his face, frowning again, and shook his head. "But – _no!_ That doesn't make any sense!... Does it?"

She shrugged, grinning. "You never know."

* * *

><p>"I miss Sokka," Suki remarked wistfully. She was sitting out in the tranquil open air of the deck with Toph and Uncle, absentmindedly stroking the lazy lemur curled up in her lap.<p>

"Already?" Toph smirked, leaning against the railing beside her, shoving her pinkie finger casually up her nose to get at a troublesome bit of snot.

"I know," Suki sighed. "Weird, huh?"

Uncle, seated on the other side of Toph, with his hands folded comfortably over his stomach, grinned rather complacently. "Well," he said. "Sokka may not be here. But at least we won Momo in the coin toss."

"Right," Suki snickered, rolling her eyes and scratching behind Momo's ears. "How could we ever manage without Momo?"

Having satisfactorily excavated her nostrils, Toph began to whistle nonchalantly. Iroh lounged back and shut his eyes for a moment; it was still a bit early, but he was feeling just about ready for a good night's sleep. When he opened his eyes again, he spotted Ursa and Yonten strolling together across the opposite side of the deck, silhouetted in the crimson light of the sunset, chatting quietly with one another. Every now and then, he saw the young Airbender's eyes dart in their direction – specifically, in _Toph_'s direction – and a fleeting bashfulness passed across the boy's face each time.

Uncle chuckled to himself, hardly surprised. He'd been suspecting (subtly hoping) for about a week or two now, that perhaps something might be developing between Toph and Yonten. Surreptitiously, he glanced up at Toph. She didn't seem to be paying any attention – though he was glad she no longer had her finger up her nose.

"You know, Toph," he said cheerfully, nudging her with his elbow. "I think a certain young Airbender might have taken a fancy to you."

Toph immediately stopped whistling, and turned the same color as the sunset.

"Toph! You're _blushing!_" Suki laughed.

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, yes, you are!" she cried, laughing harder, which only made Toph blush more ferociously.

"You're as red as a ripe tomato," Uncle laughed as well, thoroughly delighted.

"Toph!" Suki gasped, grinning. "Don't tell me – !"

"You wouldn't happen to have a little crush, now would you, Toph?" Uncle asked happily.

"_No!_" she cried, somehow flushing even more. Mortified, she covered her cheeks with her hands. "Stop looking at me!"

"Aw!" Suki beamed. "You like Yonten! That's so adorable!"

"You two would have the most beautiful babies!" Uncle declared merrily, out of nowhere.

"_What?!_" Toph exclaimed, appalled. "We're not – ! No! _No!_ No babies! Would you two – !"

"Does Yonten know?" Suki asked gleefully. "Does he know you want to have his babies, Toph?"

"Will you two knock it off? _I'm not having anyone's babies!_"

This last proclamation she shouted loudly enough to attract the attention of Ursa and Yonten, all the way on the other side of the deck, as well as that of General Ashiro and a few of the other soldiers who were patrolling around the area. Toph could sense everyone staring at her curiously, and she instantly turned a few shades redder and did her best to glower at Uncle and Suki, who were both laughing uproariously.

"How did you guys jump straight to _babies_, anyway?" she demanded, lowering her voice. "Getting a little ahead of yourselves there, don't you think?"

"Have you talked to him, Toph?" Uncle insisted eagerly, once he'd stopped laughing enough to speak again. "You must tell us everything! Has he already professed his undying love for you?"

"What? No! Don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed fiercely. "He – well, there was one time when he said he found me attractive and intimidating. And I hit him in the stomach. But – not because he said that. Those two things were unrelated." She was still blushing, much to her frustration.

"Oh, Toph," Uncle shook his head, sighing mirthfully. "You really know how to win a man's heart, don't you?"

"I can't _wait_ to tell Sokka about this," Suki snickered. "He's gonna have so much fun once he finds out – "

"Oh, cut it out, already," she scowled. "What, are we all twelve years old now? Seriously."

"Aw, we're just happy for you, Toph," Uncle grinned.

"Yeah," Suki nodded. "I'm sure you and Yonten will be very happy together."

"We're not together! _Geezsh!_" she cried in exasperation. "First of all, he's not really my type – he's all polite and spiritual and Airbendery – "

"And you are the one who prefers to stand around digging the mucus out of your nose," Uncle chuckled.

"Exactly!" Toph said.

"But don't you see? That's perfect!" Suki grinned. "You'll balance each other! Like _yin _and _yang_."

Uncle nodded in solemn agreement, though he still wore a ridiculous grin. "_Yin _and _yang_, Toph! You can't argue with that."

Toph sighed wearily. "Look, really, it's _nothing_. Pipsqueak's just got a little crush on me, that's all. No need to start planning our wedding."

"She calls him _Pipsqueak_," Suki practically giggled. "Adorable!"

"I hadn't even thought about a wedding!" Uncle remarked, stroking his beard. "Perhaps once Katara brings back the Avatar, we can have a double-wedding! Wouldn't that be nice?"

"That's a great idea, Uncle!" Suki agreed eagerly. "We'll just have to get Yonten to propose sometime before we get to the North Pole…"

At last, Toph gave up and simply walked away, leaving them to revel in their delighted speculations without her. But she was _still _blushing. She couldn't make it stop.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting off to the left, and Appa was lazily skimming the pink-gold clouds, and Sokka missed Suki. Already.<p>

He wondered, was that normal? Missing her so much already? Sure, maybe if they were both sixteen again. But after they'd been together for so long? Wasn't this supposed to be the point in the relationship where they were tired of each other all the time? He was glad they weren't, but still. They'd been married for – what, six? seven years now? Something like that. He couldn't remember exactly at the moment.

Suki would have smacked him for forgetting, if she were here. Man, he missed her.

Sokka sighed wearily, mostly wishing for someone to talk to, imagining what he would tell Suki, if she were here. He couldn't imagine how she'd respond; but that was fine. He just needed to talk.

He'd tell her, Suki, it's the weirdest thing: I'm tired, but I don't feel like sleeping. You know why?

Because I'm bothered, he'd say. I've been bothered all day, really bothered, by whatever's going on with Katara. Especially her strange meltdown earlier today. It just came out of nowhere; you wouldn't believe it, Suki, even if you'd been here.

And after a thoughtful pause, he'd go on to say, You know, Suki, Katara hasn't said anything else about turning back since then, but I can just sense all this anxiety and uncertainty in her, and it's worrisome. Really worrisome. And not only that, but – I mean, the way she just _crumbled_, all at once, out of nowhere. It was – it was haunting. I keep thinking about it, even still.

And all because she lost that necklace. He'd say, Listen, Suki, I get why she's upset about it. I really do. I know it was more than just a necklace. But still. I haven't seen her that broken up by anything in – in five years. Not since right after Aang disappeared.

And the things she said, Suki – you should have heard it. The things she said to Tenzin. That she's not coming back. That this is going to be the end for her. What made her say that? Where did that come from?... She seemed so sure of herself up till now. _So _sure that she knew what she was doing, that she knew what she wanted and she was going to get it, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

But Suki, he'd say, I never anticipated that she might actually stand in her own way. And I don't think she anticipated it, either.

So… tell me, please. What happened?

Sokka sighed. He didn't know how Suki would answer that question, because Suki was only in his head right now, and his head didn't know how to answer either. He didn't know what had happened to Katara – what had shattered her confidence so drastically in the time between leaving the Fire Nation and leaving the ship – but the entire thing made him horribly uneasy. She'd been acting strange for a while now. But this was something different, and he didn't know how to handle it. All his previous fears were surfacing again – the ones he'd felt at the beginning of the trip, misgivings about whether or not she could actually do this, whether or not he should let her – the fears he thought he'd overcome. They were rising up again, unsettled by everything she'd said earlier, by the way she'd fallen apart without warning.

Only now, it was different. Because now Sokka had reached a point where turning back, going home, giving up, was – it was _agonizing _to think about. When they'd first begun this crazy trip, the idea of bringing Aang back to life had seemed so impossible, so unreal. But it didn't anymore. Now it was within their grasp, almost palpable. Now it felt like... well, like Tenzin had said: it felt like what was _supposed_ to happen.

Sokka hadn't realized how much he'd gotten his hopes up, how much he was already looking forward to having Aang back. He hadn't realized it until now, now that it was being taken away, now that the possibility that it might not happen at all – that they'd all just end up going home, trying to go back to the way they were before – had been raised.

And raised by _Katara_, of all people! That was still the most troubling part about it.

He hadn't spoken to her about it all day. He hadn't spoken to her much at all, really. He wanted to. But he had no idea what to say. And, honestly, he was a little afraid of what _she _might say.

Sokka sighed again, and yawned quietly. He thought about dozing off, but decided not to. He wasn't in the mood to sleep.

The others were all asleep, though. At least, he was pretty sure they were. It had been quiet back there in the saddle for a while now. The kids – after having random spurts of wild wakefulness throughout the day – had both passed out a couple of hours ago, their sleep schedules still slightly off-kilter after that long, restless night on the ship. Zuko was still sleeping off his injuries. And Katara… Well, she was just wiped out. She'd been wiped out for a while. Sokka assumed she must be in a good, deep coma by now.

That was good. Maybe sleeping would help clear her head, help her think straight. Maybe tomorrow, she'd be back to normal. He could only hope.

But a few minutes later, just when he was beginning to nod off himself, he heard whispering behind him in the saddle.

"Katara? Are you still awake?" It was Zuko's voice. He sounded a little worried.

"Hm," she mumbled. "Yeah, I'm awake."

"Have you gotten any sleep?"

"I'll sleep when I'm ready. Don't worry about me."

Sokka scowled to himself, feeling frustrated at her for not sleeping when she so clearly needed it. But he didn't say anything. Merely adjusted himself slightly and attempted to nod off again.

"Is Sokka asleep?" Zuko asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

Zuko was quiet for a second. "Just wondering… Could we talk for a minute?"

Sokka stopped nodding off. Almost without even being aware of it, he began breathing slower, more carefully, making himself extra silent. His ears suddenly became unusually interested in what they were saying, curious about what they'd talk about when they believed no one was listening.

Some nagging moral voice in his head (which, oddly, sounded rather like Katara's and Suki's voices blended together) spoke up then, reminding him that this – what he was doing here – this was called _eavesdropping_, Sokka. Ever heard of it? And it was generally a less-than-honest thing to do, in case he didn't know.

But Sokka ignored that nagging voice and perked his ears up anyway.

"I've been wanting to ask you," Zuko began in a hush, "are you okay? I mean, after what happened earlier today… You really sort of lost it there, for a minute. It was – it was weird. What's going on?"

She didn't answer for a while. Then, she whispered sharply, "Nothing. Nothing's going on. I'm just tired. That's all."

"Okay, sure. You're tired. But you're not sleeping. Makes lots of sense."

"Sleep wouldn't help me right now."

"Katara, really. What's wrong? I've never seen you act like that before. I mean, I know that necklace meant a lot to you, but still – "

"It wasn't just a necklace. It's more than that. You wouldn't understand."

"Well, maybe if you _talked _to me – "

"Zuko!... I can't, all right? It's just – it's not something I can explain to you. But – but it doesn't matter. Everything's fine. I've got it under control."

"Got what under control?"

"... Everything. It's all under control."

Zuko paused for a moment. "You really don't seem like you're in control at all, Katara. Especially the way you were going on earlier, when you were talking to Tenzin. Telling him how you weren't coming back… Why would you say that to him? You don't really think that, do you?"

Sokka strained his ears desperately to hear what she said. But she didn't answer, much to his frustration.

"I'm just really worried," Zuko went on when she didn't reply. "It wasn't like you, to say something like that. And – and I'm also really confused. You sounded like you were actually changing your mind about going to save Aang. But – I don't know. You've always seemed so sure about it up till now. I mean, just this morning, when we talked – "

"I know."

"You told me you were going to save him, and I wasn't going to stop you."

"I know."

"And that I had to let you go because you were going to bring him back. You were so – you sounded so sure about it. What happened? Where did all this come from?"

She was silent again, for a long time, and once again Sokka mentally begged her to say something, to explain.

But, at last, she did speak again.

"I don't know," she whispered, so softly that Sokka almost couldn't hear her. "I wish I knew. I'm just so confused, and – and _tired_. It's all so complicated now. Back when I first left, everything was simple. I was going to save Aang, and that was all there was. And I thought once I did that, everything would be fine. But now… it's all just a mess. I don't know anything for sure anymore. I've – I've had a bad feeling about it all, for a couple of weeks now. This feeling that it's all wrong, that I'm too late, that I'm not coming back. And I've tried to ignore it, and tell myself that it didn't matter. But it did. It _does_, I mean."

Zuko seemed to hesitate briefly. "Well," he whispered, "a bad feeling doesn't mean anything, really. It doesn't mean it's actually true, Katara. That you're not coming back. Maybe you're just scared."

"I don't know," she moaned miserably. "I've been thinking about so many things, Zuko – I can't even keep anything straight anymore. Uncle said that no one's ever gotten a face back from the Face-Stealer. I have no idea how _I'm _supposed to do something that no one's ever done before! And if I don't come back, what'll happen to Tenzin? Is it right for me to leave him, especially when there's such a huge chance that I'm not gonna make it?"

"I – " Zuko stumbled slightly, and Sokka deeply empathized with the anxiety evident in his reluctant whisper. "I mean, I think your chances are better than you're making them out to be now... But, yeah. Tenzin. I don't know. That's hard."

"It's _so _hard," she went on quietly. "I feel like it's wrong to just leave him. And – I don't know – I'm not even sure I'm doing this for the right reasons anymore. And the worst part is, it's not just about me. I'm dragging everyone into this with me. Tenzin, and you, and Sokka, and everyone. Look at all the horrible things that have happened already! And we're not even to the North Pole yet!"

"Well, but we _did _find my mom. That's one good thing that's come out of it."

"We would have found her regardless."

"I think a lot of the other horrible stuff that's happened would have happened regardless, too."

Katara paused again, and her voice trembled. "I don't know, Zuko. Everything just feels like it's going wrong already, and we're not even there yet. And it only feels like it's going to get worse. And now I've – when I lost that necklace, it just felt like – like some kind of sign. Like I shouldn't be doing this. Like it's already a lost cause."

"Katara – "

"But – I think about all those things, and I think I shouldn't go, but then I always go back to… I just think about Aang. And… I can't stand _not _to do this. I can't stand to just forget him, even though I think I'm supposed to. And then I'm not sure about anything again."

"You think you're _supposed_ to forget about Aang? Why? Since when? What makes you say that?"

"Well, I… I don't know."

There was a long silence between them then, heavy with a strange tension that Sokka sensed, but only partially understood. His stomach churned uneasily, and he wondered if perhaps he should stop eavesdropping, for his own peace of mind.

"I can't, though," Katara finally whispered. "I can't forget about him."

"Yeah," Zuko muttered.

"But everything – I feel like _everything_ – the universe is telling me not to do this. That this is all wrong."

Sokka heard Zuko scoff slightly. "The universe."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

"But I also don't see how I could give up now."

"Hm."

"But – maybe – maybe this is what's supposed to happen," she exhaled the words painfully. "Giving up, I mean. Maybe I _am _supposed to let it go. I couldn't let it go before. Maybe that's what this was all for."

Zuko didn't say anything.

He heard Katara sigh heavily, with obvious anguish and grief. "I guess," she whispered, "I mean, I'd still have you, right?"

Sokka almost jolted upright in the saddle when she said that, ready to protest indignantly on Aang's behalf. But he resisted the urge, listening anxiously.

Zuko didn't sound very pleased either. "Are you saying I'm your backup or something?"

"What? No!" Her denial was fierce, flustered, and when she spoke again she sounded uncomfortable and profoundly sorry. "I didn't mean it like that. That's – that sounds terrible. I don't need a 'backup,' whatever that even means. I just meant… Well, I guess I was just thinking that… I don't know. We've been together for so long now, already. We could just go back to the way we were. I could be happy with that. I could be happy doing that, with you."

Zuko didn't reply. Sokka shoved his fist into his mouth to keep himself from interrupting them.

"And…" she went on, her whisper faltering with deep, heartbroken regret. "Maybe – maybe I should stop being so selfish, and just be happy with what I've got. Maybe I should be content and let things be the way they are, instead of risking so much, putting everyone in danger, just so I can go uselessly chasing after something I used to have, but was too stupid to hold on to when I had it."

There was a very, _very _long silence, in which the air itself felt stressed and discomfited, and Sokka simmered silently, boiling with a very strange, inexplicable, potent storm of emotions.

Then, out of nowhere, Zuko suddenly whispered, bitterly adamant, "You need to save Aang, Katara."

Katara didn't say anything for a moment. "What?"

"You need to stop saying stuff like this. Go save Aang. Bring him back and be with him. Okay?" His voice cracked a bit at the end, but his sincerity was undeniable.

She sounded truly surprised. "Zuko, why – ?"

"You're not thinking straight," he whispered fiercely. "You're not talking like yourself. All this stuff about being happy with what you've got, letting things be the way they are? Sure, that sounds all fine and great in theory. But what if we all lived our lives like that? What if Aang had had that mindset, back when he had to fight my father?... It would make sense to say that if there was nothing you could do about it, Katara. But you _can _do something about it. So, just stop talking like that. Do what you have to do."

Everything he said was exactly what Sokka wanted to say, and Sokka was suddenly immensely grateful to Zuko for saying it. But he also noticed that there was a strange bitterness, a dense, painful kind of anger, that lurked in every syllable Zuko whispered.

"Zuko, why are you so upset?" Katara asked softly after a moment.

"Because you were right before, this morning when we talked," he snapped. "When I asked you that question – about whether you could be happy with me. You were right. You shouldn't have answered it. Because you did, just now, even though you said you wouldn't. And I just realized, I don't think I actually wanted you to answer."

Sokka heard him sigh heavily – definitely bitter, Sokka thought. And furious. And sad – really sad.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You said a minute ago that you could be happy going back home and staying with me," he said in a soft, severe voice. "This morning, I thought that was what I wanted you to say. But now that you actually said it, all I heard was… that I'm just good _enough_. You could _live _with me. But that's not how you talk about Aang. When we talked this morning, and you were going on about Aang, you didn't say he was good enough, or that you could be happy with him. You said he's the one you _want_. And that's different. Really different."

"Zuko – "

"No, Katara. I've heard you talk about Aang enough over the years to know what it's like with you. You say, yeah, maybe you could be happy with me. But I don't think you can be happy _without _Aang. See the difference? And I can't live with that. I can't be your second choice."

Katara was utterly speechless. So Zuko went on, in a broken and angry whisper.

"You know what I think this whole thing's about? I think you're scared. That's it. You're getting cold feet. I think right now you're trying to talk yourself out of doing this in any way you can, because it's actually getting close now, and it's starting to feel like it's really gonna happen, and you're scared." He paused, took a deep breath. "I mean, I understand that, Katara. That's normal. I'm scared too – I'm scared for you. But I also know that you have it in you to actually do this. And I think you know that too, deep down… But more importantly, I think you _need_ to do this. You need to bring him back, because… because of… I don't know. Whatever it is that, even after five years, makes you still wake up some mornings and call the first person you see 'Aang.'"

Katara was still silent, but Sokka could hear her sniffling a bit.

"If you don't – " Zuko kept going, his voice shattering more painfully as he went. "If you – if you settled for me, all because you were scared… I just – Maybe you could talk yourself into being happy with me, but I couldn't be happy with _you_, Katara. I couldn't be happy knowing that I was your second choice, the one who was just good enough, and that the only reason you were with me at all was because you got scared. I couldn't be happy if, for the rest of my life, you still accidentally called me 'Aang' whenever I woke you up in the morning."

He stopped for a moment, and they both breathed. Sokka could hear that Katara was definitely crying a bit – or, at least, she was trying hard not to cry.

Then Zuko said softly, "So – no. You _don't_ have me, Katara. I still – I still – " He choked slightly, but forced himself onward. "I still care about you a lot, you know. But we're not going to just go back to the way we were, no matter what happens now. That's – that just can't be an option anymore. No matter if you decide to go try to save Aang, or if you get scared and decide to give up. Either way, I'm not going to be your backup. I just – I can't." He paused. "Understand?"

She hesitated, and then – almost inaudibly – she whispered, "Yeah… You're right, Zuko. I'm sorry I said anything."

They both fell quiet after that, and didn't speak anymore. There was nothing more to be said. And, after several minutes of silence had passed, Sokka assumed that they both must have gone back to sleep.

But as for himself, he now found he was even less inclined to doze off than before, too busy trying to sort out his many, many difficult thoughts and perplexed emotions.

* * *

><p>Night fell once again over the ship, which still churned its way tenaciously forward toward the North Pole. And almost everyone on board slept – glad, after the past few nights of living nightmares and wakeful stress, to be finally able to sleep in relative peace.<p>

Toph was down below, on one of the lower decks. Still awake (but barely), gliding her bare feet along the cold surface of the iron floor, grazing her fingers across the walls, strolling through the corridors and humming to herself, enjoying some alone time. She felt fairly comfortable, as they all did; fairly unconcerned. Though she did still wonder, casually, about the phantom that she thought she'd seen before, and still wondered about Azula, and still wondered… wondered: was Azula really gone? Had it really been that easy?

No matter. Azula was practically powerless now, if she was on the ship. And Toph was beginning to feel more and more certain that Azula simply wasn't there at all. She would have seen her by now – she would have seen her _clearly_, and caught her, without a doubt. Azula would have to be an actual ghost to hide from Toph this long.

Everything was utterly silent. Sleep wafted through the ship like a soothing aroma. Toph yawned, wandering, wondering. Letting her thoughts meander.

When would they get to the North Pole? In a few days? Too bad the ship couldn't get there any faster. Toph had never been to the North Pole, and she was curious about it. Though she hoped the entire city wasn't all completely made of just _ice_, or something ridiculous like that. If it was, then she wasn't going to have a very fun time when she got there.

She wondered if Katara would already have saved Aang by the time they arrived. Perhaps Aang would already be there with the others, waiting to greet them when they got there.

Toph smiled a bit, shaking her head. It was still so surreal, just thinking about it. _Aang_. Alive again, after all this time. They'd all been thinking about it, talking about it, for weeks now, and she still could hardly fathom it.

Knowing Katara and Aang, by the time this ship arrived at the North Pole, they might already be married and starting on baby number two.

Toph chuckled with sleepy giddiness at the idea, and sighed cheerfully. Nah – she thought. Hopefully they'd wait to get married until she was there. She'd be pretty ticked off if they went and did it without her.

Two more of her friends, married. It was definitely high-time for it. But Toph couldn't help sighing a bit, nevertheless.

If her mother was around now, Toph imagined that she'd probably be nagging her nonstop. As she did.

_When are _you _ever going to get married, Toph?_ she'd say, all sweet and pouty. _Your friends are getting married now – why not you? Don't you want to give your father and I some grandchildren, before we die? Don't you _want _to get married? What about that cute Airbender, hm? He seems to like you._

Toph sighed again, exasperated just at her own imagination, and felt glad that her mother wasn't actually there. Uncle and Suki were bad enough.

Suddenly, Toph was pulled out of her half-awake wanderings when, far down the corridor behind her, there was a faint, muffled clattering sound.

She stopped walking – listened. Every single one of her muscles tensed instantly, and she made herself perfectly still. Ears alert, bare feet tentatively feeling out the nuances of the metal's vibrations. Her heart thudded a bit.

At the far end of the hallway – almost all the way at the back of the ship – lay one of the ship's galleys. That was where the clattering noise had come from. Toph's mind focused on that single spot, gathered up the many delicate tremors pulsing through her feet, gathered them into a mental sketch, cleaning up the blurry edges to sharpen the image. She pressed her fingers to the wall for added clarity.

Someone was down there – in the galley. She could see it, even all the way at this end of the hall. It was someone relatively small and slender, fiddling with the door that led to one of the massive pantries where food was stored.

Then –

The person vanished.

Toph furrowed her brow, intensely puzzled, and her heart thudded a bit more.

But there was _definitely _someone there; Toph had no doubt about it this time. Not only had she managed to get a real, concrete image, but she'd heard the noise. That wasn't just her paranoid imagination acting up. That was real.

But how could someone just disappear like that? What was going on?

And who was it? Azula? Of course, Toph's first conclusion was that it was Azula. But – it didn't _have _to be Azula, did it? It could be – could be one of the soldiers, or one of the ship's crew, trying to sneak a midnight snack.

Right?

Toph hesitated, breathing carefully.

Oh, who was she kidding? Of _course_ it was Azula! It had to be!

In an instant, Toph was on her way down the corridor, heading straight for the suspicious galley, running with confident, furious strides. Some small voice of reason in the back of her mind (which, oddly, sounded rather like Sokka's voice) told her not to go alone, to go get reinforcements, to at least go alert someone else – to at least tell Suki or Yonten what was going on. To not tempt the universe.

But! Toph argued with that rational Sokka-ish voice in her head – but if she didn't go now, if she wasted any time, she'd almost definitely lose whatever trail there was. It might be days before she managed to catch another glimpse of the phantom, and who knew what could happen in all that time?

And, also, to be completely honest, this was becoming a matter of personal pride now. No one should have been able to trick her senses like this, and it was bothering her to no end. She was going to take care of this herself. She'd handle it; she'd show Azula. No one toyed with the greatest Earthbender in the world. _No one_.

Perhaps she was letting her pride get the better of her judgment. She was vaguely aware that she was, but she wasn't worried. Yes, she could be rash at times, but she was no idiot; she knew what she was doing. And anyway, _she _was the one with the massive advantage here. If she could take care of this problem without getting anyone else involved – without putting anyone else in danger – well, so much the better.

Arriving outside the galley door, Toph paused cautiously before entering, feeling out the entire inside of the room first. It appeared vacant – but she wasn't counting on that.

She reached for the door.

And, inexplicably, a sudden surge of terror seized her heart.

Inhaling sharply, she scowled at herself, pushing through the strange burst of dread. Where had that come from? What was she afraid of? No matter what was in that room, she had a massive upper-hand, and she knew it. She never felt terror like that, _ever_. It made her feel vulnerable and small, and she despised it with every fiber of her being.

Gritting her teeth, she pressed her fingers briefly onto the surface of the iron galley door, and then kicked it in violently. The door flung open, smashed back against the wall, and in the blink of an eye she darted into the room and pressed herself back against the door, hastily molding the thick metal entirely around her body. Now wrapped in a hard shield of metal, she lunged forward into the middle of the room, arms raised, muscles burning with sharp alertness, nerves all tingling and pulsing with anticipation.

But everything was silent. And Toph breathed warily. There was nothing there at all.

Well... weird.

She'd half-expected to be hit with a barrage of flames the moment she ran into the room, even though she hadn't been able to actually see Azula from outside the door. But there was nothing there. The room really was empty. Toph felt around every inch of the galley, and it was completely devoid of life. There were the stoves, off to her left. Some cabinets above those – all empty, except for the stacks of dishes. Some pots and pans were hanging from various racks over the stoves. A few wooden crates had been stacked up along the opposite wall, but there was no one hiding behind them. The thick metal beams that stretched across the ceiling were tangled up with chains and what felt like some thick ropes, but no one was lurking above the rafters.

Whoever had been here was gone.

But where had she gone? There weren't any other rooms leading out from this one, except the pantry. But that was still locked. And Toph would have seen her if she'd run out into the hall. How was this possible?

With a growl of frustration, Toph shed her metal armor, leaving it in a pile at her feet. She scowled and pounded the wall with her fist.

And when she hit the wall, something clattered to the floor nearby: a small, flat, squarish object, that seemed to fall out of nowhere. Out of the wall.

Stepping forward, she knelt and picked it up. It was a grate, made of dense, pure steel. A slatted metal grate, like the type that would normally cover...

The air vents.

Toph's heart froze. _The air vents!_

Azula had been hiding in the ventilation shafts!

That had to be it! Those shafts were all made of the same kind of steel as the grate – a thinner, harder kind of steel, more purified than the thick iron around the rest of the ship, and much harder for Toph to see through. Especially if she wasn't consciously looking.

She spat out a vicious curse. How? How did Azula _know_? How did she know that Toph wouldn't be as likely to see her in the ventilation shafts? How did she figure that out, about the steel? Or was it just a lucky guess? It had to be! She couldn't have known –

And those air vents were _everywhere_. That explained how Azula had been disappearing and reappearing all over the place. That explained why she'd seemed like just a ghost, leaping through the walls!

Toph seethed with rage at her own foolishness, and sent the vent cover clattering to the ground. How had she not thought about the air vents? It was so obvious! That should have been the _first _place she looked!

But if that really was it, then that meant…

Azula must be in the shaft right this very moment.

Toph dug her fingers into the iron wall and hoisted herself up – up toward the open air duct. She kept her head low, wary of a sudden attack, but cautiously reached her fingers out for the cold edge of the metal vent, to see into the shaft.

The picture in her head was still a little blurry – damn whoever made those stupid ducts! – but she saw it all clearly enough to know that the shaft was empty. Azula wasn't in there.

Toph frowned in bewilderment, stumped again.

If she wasn't in the shaft, then where had she gone?

As she lingered there, puzzling over this question, suddenly Toph heard something behind her. A soft, strange gurgling noise. Like someone's stomach growling for food.

And it sounded as if – as if it came from someone hovering in midair.

In an instant, everything became clear.

Azula was in the room with her.

_The ropes hanging from the rafters_ –

Azula wasn't in the air vents. She was in the room. Not hiding in the ceiling, but hanging from it, dangling in the ropes, suspended off the ground so that she wouldn't be touching any metal. Toph couldn't see her, but she knew at once that she was there. She'd been there the whole time.

Right behind her.

Heart racing, Toph whirled around immediately and leaped back to the ground, thrusting her arms up in a rapid motion.

The metal beams in the ceiling instantly came crashing down to the floor, screeching and groaning violently. There was a sudden cry, and –

There she was.

Azula hit the floor with a painful thud.

Toph gave another abrupt swing of her arms, and the metal floor ripped itself brutally up and folded over, to trap Azula beneath it. But Azula rolled frantically out of the way and fled that room as fast as lightning. Toph threw her arms forward, and brought the doorway crumpling down – only barely missing her.

With a frustrated grunt, Toph took off running after her, ripping the doorway open again and racing into the hallway.

Azula tossed something behind her – something small and round and metallic.

Coolly, Toph gave a quick wave of her hands, and the little grenade instantly split apart, before it even came close to hitting the ground. The blasting powder inside scattered around the floor in a harmless shower.

Toph could feel Azula's desperation to get away, and it filled her with a deep, exhilarating satisfaction. She threw her arms forward, and the metal walls of the corridor all creaked and rippled and curled in towards each other in a screeching, jerking tumult.

Azula hastily doubled back and darted into a small side room, just narrowly avoiding being crushed by the inclosing walls.

And Toph was close behind her, smirking in triumph. She already knew that the room Azula had run into was a dead-end. There was nowhere to run. Azula was cornered. She had her now -

But as soon as Toph crossed the threshold into the room, she felt something suddenly bite her sharply in the neck. A small, piercing thing that made her cry out in surprise and pain.

Her hand shot up to her neck frantically, reaching – and her fingers brushed against a small dart lodged in her skin.

Stumbling back, horrified, Toph hastily yanked the dart out and flung it to the ground. But it was too late – she knew immediately that it was too late. An overwhelming icy numbness surged through her veins, faster than she thought was possible.

She tried to run – to keep moving. She struggled to fight it. But each of her muscles froze up in less than a second –

_No, no, no_ – _! _Her heart shrieked in terror –

Her legs gave out. Toph collapsed to the ground in a numb, powerless heap.

For a moment, all she could clearly see in her head was the floor – and then, as all the sensations in her body evaporated completely, even the floor disappeared. And in that one terrible moment, the only feeling left to her was panic: pure, screaming, devastating panic, the like of which she'd never felt before in her life.

She couldn't move – she couldn't see – she couldn't escape. She opened her mouth to scream, but then Azula was on top of her, shoving a bundle of rags into her mouth, gagging and smothering the scream before it even had a chance to leave Toph's throat.

"Sh!" Azula commanded her unnecessarily, still panting from their chase.

Toph boiled with terror and rage, desperately willing her body to move, willing the metal around her to move. But it was useless. She was completely drained.

"Well!" Azula chuckled breathlessly. "That was a close one! You really almost had me there for a second!"

Though Toph could hardly see anything, she was sure she sensed Azula grinning in triumphant satisfaction – that satisfaction that, seconds ago, had been Toph's. And that only made her more furious.

"You know," Azula whispered, gloating. "Shirshu venom is _not _easy to come by. That little dose you just got – believe it or not, that was my only one! The man I took it from back in the Earth Kingdom claimed that it worked instantly. Total paralysis in seconds, he said! And I thought he was exaggerating. Ha! Good thing for me he wasn't."

Toph was still struggling to breathe, struggling to scream, struggling to find where her body had gone. But her body was nowhere to be found. Her muscles had all deserted her, her senses abandoned her. She couldn't see – she was only hazily aware that Azula was crouching over her, shoving the gag more securely down her throat.

No control. No power at all. Nothing. Complete, utter helplessness.

The panic – the terror – was so real, so consuming – Toph almost didn't even know who she was anymore –

Azula laughed, and sighed thoughtfully. "That really is some incredible stuff. Now I wish I'd gotten more of it."

A furious moan fought to crawl out of Toph's throat. But it was too muffled by the gag to do any good.

"You almost got lucky, too," Azula rambled on, in an eerily casual way. "I thought of using it a few times before now, but something always stopped me. I just kept thinking, 'No – you should save it. You might need it more later.' And now look! I was right, wasn't I? I don't think I could have taken you down any other way. Isn't it funny how things work out?"

Toph's head was spinning woozily now. She wasn't sure if it was the Shirshu venom, or the terror, or the unbearable rage, that was making it spin. Maybe all three.

"Now, then – what shall I do with you, little badgermole?" Azula mused, and Toph was faintly aware that one of Azula's fingers was brushing across her face. "Honestly, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. It would have been so much easier if I could have just stayed hidden till we got to the North Pole. But now that I've got you, I suppose I'm going to have to deal with you. That venom isn't going to last forever…"

Only one thought was now pounding through Toph's head – pounding like a heartless drumbeat.

_I'm going to die_.

She knew it. This was it. Azula was going to kill her – right here, in the middle of this hallway, while she was lying here trapped in this pathetic, helpless state.

Every ounce of Toph's being was being eaten away by hate: powerful, piercing hatred. Hatred for Azula for beating her, for making her feel terror and panic, for making her powerless. And hatred for herself, for getting into this situation.

"The problem is," Azula muttered pensively, "as soon as the others realize you're gone, they'll know I'm here. And then they'll probably try hunting me down again – or stop the ship again – or change course. I'll never get to the North Pole that way, now will I? No, no – they wouldn't let me get to the North Pole. They'd want to protect the precious babies, and that Waterbending whore, and of course dear old Zuzu. They won't even let me get _close_ to the North Pole, once they know I'm here."

She was silent for a moment, and Toph suddenly felt a handful of her hair being gripped in Azula's tight fist. She groaned and snarled through the gag.

"What do you think, Mud-Slug?" Azula asked, and the mocking tone in her voice only made Toph even more desperately infuriated. "Any ideas? No? – I suppose the only way now would be for me to get control of the ship… But how could I do that, with so many dangerous people on board?"

For a little while, she seemed to lose herself in thought. Toph could almost hear the mechanisms of her mind clicking and whirring, and she dreaded whatever schemes were going on inside her head.

"Hm," Azula finally grunted. "You know, up till now, _you _were actually my greatest threat on this entire ship. Let me tell you, it was a nightmare trying to hide from you. I'd really like to just kill you right now, and not have to worry about you anymore. It'd be a huge burden off my mind if you were gone. But – now that I think about it, I think you might actually be more useful to me alive. At least for a little while. As long as I make sure you can't do anything to stop me."

Toph could faintly sense her rising to her feet as she said this. And the next moment, her fingers were grasping at Toph's clothes, and gravity shifted – Toph realized she was being lifted off the ground – Azula was dragging her away.

"Actually," Azula remarked, laughing delightedly for a moment. "This'll be a whole lot more interesting, anyway."

What was she planning? Where was she dragging her off to? Heart racing, head spinning, Toph strained wildly for an idea – any idea. She had to do something. What could she do? There had to be something! She had to warn the others – she had to try to stall Azula somehow, until the Shirshu venom wore off – but how long would that be?

She couldn't do anything – she couldn't do anything –

She had to warn the others. She had to let them know. One of them could do something. Maybe someone would come find her –

Toph struggled for air and, gathering her strength, forced out the most powerful scream she could manage, shoving it out of her lungs with all her might. It was still muffled, too muffled to be heard, and the effort made her strangle and choke on the gag for a moment.

"Sh!" Azula hissed again.

Then something hard and sharp bashed Toph in the side of the head, and she lost consciousness.


	33. Sleep

_Oh man. I've been looking forward to this one. _:D

_(In fact, the reason I was able to post this so quickly is because I actually wrote several bits of it weeks ago, because I couldn't wait to get here... I did that with a lot of the scenes that'll be in the last few chapters too. It's this thing I do... But yeah, hooray! Hope you all enjoy it!)_

Aang: "Wait! Wait! This chapter's just called 'Sleep'?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Yep!"<br>Aang: "_Holy monkeyfeathers! _It's another dream chapter, isn't it?" :D  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Nah. No dreams. Just sleeping. Lots and lots of dreamless sleeping. Exciting, right?" ^_^<br>Aang: -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Just kidding..." :

* * *

><p><strong>SLEEP<strong>

Sokka massaged the heavy fatigue nestling between his eyes, and yawned, squinting out at the misty nighttime ocean, which looked exactly the same as the ocean they'd flown over six hours ago, and exactly the same as all the ocean in between. He yawned again.

They'd been flying for several days now, and the only signs that they were getting any closer to their destination were the increasing chill in the air and the hazy white lumps of ice here and there in the sea below. He'd been attempting to estimate their current location, and had calculated that they ought to arrive at the North Pole in about two days.

The day before the Solstice.

_Cutting it a little close_, he thought grimly. But still – at least they would get there. And technically, they'd still have time to spare. Just not as much time as they might have liked. But as long as they got directly to business once they were there, made sure to get Katara to that magic pond as soon as possible – what was there to worry about? Once she was there, everything ought to work out. All that mattered was getting there.

After all, how long could it take her to convince a face-stealing spirit monster thing to give back one of its stolen faces? Surely it would listen to reason, right?

Sokka shuddered. He hadn't thought seriously about the _Face-Stealer_ for a while. With all the other stress and mayhem they'd encountered along this trip, it had been pushed to the back of his mind. Also, admittedly, he still just really, _really _didn't like even thinking about Katara confronting that thing.

At the same time, though, his previous misgivings about this trip had been completely alleviated, for the most part; not only that, but they'd been replaced by a fierce determination. A determination that he knew was probably, at least partially, a revolt against Katara's recent aggravating insecurity. If Sokka could have talked to himself from a few weeks ago – back when he was feeling so doubtful about this whole thing – he would have given that guy a good piece of his mind. He wasn't sure when the change had come over him, when his uncertainty had dissipated. But at some point amid Uncle's wisdom, Toph's jokes, Tenzin's conviction, and Zuko's (slightly surprising) insistence that she needed to go, Sokka had completely stopped doubting and started believing instead. And once he believed it, the idea, the hope, had taken over, and nothing else mattered. She _had _to do this. Not only that, but she _could _do it, and _would_. And that was that.

Even still, though, he couldn't stand to think too seriously, for too long, about what it was she was actually going to do. It was a lot easier to focus on _this_ part. The getting-her-to-the-magic-pond part. That was less troubling to think about. Whatever happened after that – well, it was out of his control.

Katara herself had kept strangely distant from all of them over the past few days, stewing in whatever spiraling worries she'd latched onto now. Sokka had been wavering between sympathy and frustration with her ever since he overheard the conversation between her and Zuko a few nights before. She was scared: he got that, he really did. He was scared for her, too. He understood that she was upset about leaving Tenzin. What mother _wouldn't_ be concerned about leaving her child? And Katara's motherly nature had always been powerful.

But at the same time – it wasn't like her, to be so indecisive, to even consider retreating when they were so close. She wasn't acting like herself. He still didn't know what kind of madness had come over her after they left the ship, after she'd lost that necklace. She, thankfully, hadn't mentioned turning back or giving up anymore since then, and he hoped that maybe she'd stopped thinking about it. But something about the way she kept herself so closed off made him suspect she _was_ still thinking about it, at least a little – only now she was keeping it to herself, instead of talking about it with them and allowing them to help her pull through it.

He didn't like it, but he was too aggravated with her to try to drag it out of her.

Sokka yawned yet again, blinking heavily. When his eyes almost didn't open back up, he decided it was probably time for a break.

"Hey, Zuko," he called over his shoulder. "Mind taking the reins for a while?"

Zuko snorted and grumbled, stirring out of a deep slumber. But he released a yawn of his own, and roused himself sluggishly, muttering, "Yeah, sure."

Crawling up toward Appa's head, Zuko took the reins from Sokka's hands, as Sokka himself slipped back into the saddle and stole Zuko's sleeping spot, already nice and warm. He spread a blanket out over his legs – unfortunately having to leave his thighs exposed in favor of his feet because his legs were too long for the blanket – and lounged wearily back in the saddle, adjusting himself carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping children curled up nearby.

He'd planned to shut his eyes for a while. In fact, he'd been convinced that he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open for one second longer. But now that he was back in the saddle, he didn't fall asleep. Because he happened to glance at Katara. And after getting a good look at her, he found he couldn't shut his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to.

She was sitting against the side of the saddle, near the rear. Her back was perfectly straight, rigid as a board, with her knees bent and her arms dangling limply by her sides. Her eyes, dark and bloodshot, gazed straight forward – not blinking, not moving – just staring. Staring straight at nothing. Her cheeks were ashy, drained of blood, and her breathing was slow and forced. She looked half-dead, to be honest, and utterly petrified. Paralyzed with the terror of whatever it was she was staring at. Which was nothing.

"Katara?" he said softly.

She didn't respond to him. Didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Katara!" he tried again, louder, not wanting to wake Tenzin and Ursa, but growing increasingly unsettled by the look in her eyes.

"Sokka," she whispered faintly, her voice rasping. "He's here."

Sokka gawked at her. Something in his stomach churned nervously. "What?"

She didn't look at him; didn't move. Just kept staring straight ahead at nothing, frozen. At last, very slowly, she murmured:

"He's... sitting... right... there."

Deeply alarmed, Sokka threw off his blanket and got up on his knees, crawling over to sit next to her. He studied her very intently for a moment – suddenly realizing how utterly demolished she looked, now that he saw her up close – and his eyes followed her gaze, trying to see what she saw. But there was still nothing there. He turned his eyes back to her, frowning with concern.

"Katara, what are you talking about?" he cried. "There's no one there! Are you okay? I think you should get some sleep."

But Katara didn't look at her brother, or heed what he was saying. His words sounded far away and muffled in her head. And she was too transfixed, anyway. Transfixed on the figure sitting in the saddle directly across from her.

He was leaning against the side, facing her directly, cross-legged, with his hands on his knees. His head was completely shaven, and he had blue arrows tattooed on his hands and bare feet. On his left foot, near his toes, she could see the scar left from where a bolt of lightning had once exited his body.

He was facing her. He was looking at her. Only he wasn't, because he didn't have a face.

No face at all. Just blank flesh. No ridges or indentations, even, to indicate where his features should have been. No – just completely, utterly blank. Like a sheet of paper.

He'd been sitting there for hours now, there in the saddle with them, looking at her, but not. Just sitting there, perfectly still, silent, staring at her without eyes. She couldn't remember when she'd first noticed him there, but she knew he'd been there for hours. And for hours, she'd been unable to look away.

"Katara!" Sokka cried, his voice ringing dully in her head. He waved his hands before her eyes. She blinked – but the faceless apparition was still there.

"What's going on?" she heard Zuko ask from somewhere far away. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know!" Sokka growled, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her fiercely. "Katara! Snap out of it!"

She still wouldn't look at him, so finally Sokka took her face in his hands and forcefully turned it towards himself.

"Katara," he said severely. "When was the last time you slept?"

"What?"

"_Sleep!_" he shouted. "When was the last time you got some sleep?"

She blinked at him blurrily. "I don't know. A few days ago, maybe."

Sokka scowled, furious with worry. "Damn it, Katara! Why are you doing this to yourself? There's no one there! You're seeing things! _You need to sleep!_"

Her eyes darted briefly off to the side, then back at Sokka in pleading despair.

"But – " she whispered, tears welling helplessly in her bloodshot eyes. "But – I can't sleep, Sokka. He'll be there too."

"Who?" Sokka demanded fiercely. "Aang?"

She nodded slowly, shuddering and choking.

"So you aren't sleeping because you're _afraid of Aang_? Really? What's wrong with you?"

"You don't understand – "

"You can't keep doing this to yourself! You can't not sleep just because of some stupid dreams – "

"_You don't understand!_" she roared suddenly, exploding in a fit of quivering sobs. "You don't know! You don't know what it's like! You don't know what I'm going through! You don't know what he said last time – "

"Katara," Sokka interrupted her, speaking more gently this time, rubbing her shoulders to try to calm her down. "I know I don't know what you're going through. But you're letting these dreams get to you way too much! They don't mean anything!"

"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, they do, they..." For a moment she trailed off, lost and confused and overwhelmed. "Sokka, I didn't tell you this before, because I was afraid you might – I thought you might think that I'm doing the wrong thing and you'd try to make me turn back – "

"I'm not going to – "

"Just listen!" she growled, tears streaming down her face, teeth clenching painfully. "The last few dreams I had were... They weren't like the old ones. He didn't lose his face. But I still lost him. _I _lost him, by myself, because I couldn't save him. And he told me I had to let him go. He said I... he said I wouldn't come back."

Sokka studied her for a moment. "Is that why you've been acting all crazy? Is that what all this is about?"

She shuddered violently, weeping bitter tears. "I just keep thinking – what if it's true? I tried to ignore it for a while, but I couldn't – it just kept happening, and – "

"You _will _come back," Sokka insisted firmly. "You'll save Aang and you'll come back, Katara. You're just letting your fears get the best of you – "

"But he said it was too late!" she sobbed. "He said I had to forget him. And I can't sleep, because I can't stand to hear him say things like that again. But now he's here – he won't leave me alone – he's here now, and his face is gone. His face is _gone_, Sokka."

"Katara – "

"And even when I close my eyes now," she rambled on, caught up in her own spiraling despair, "I can't see his face – I can't picture what he looked like. It's gone. He's disappearing, and I... I lost the necklace, and... It's all my fault. What if I'm too late? What if he's gone?"

She dissolved into tears, trembling from head to toe. Sokka gathered her into his arms and held her tight, trying hard to feed some of his own strength into her.

"You're not too late," he reassured her. "We'll be there on time. You're going to save him. I know you will."

"But in the dream – "

"I don't care!" Sokka cried, holding her at arm's length and fixing her with a reprimanding stare. "It was a _dream_, Katara! That's all! You do know that not all dreams have some secret deeper meaning, right? They're not all messages from some mysterious cosmic force! Sometimes – no, _most _of the time – it's just your own brain messing with you. Did you think about that?"

"But Sokka – "

"No, listen! It sounds to me like you're still just feeling guilty about some things, and you're scared of what you have to do. And you're dreaming all these things because you're feeling conflicted yourself. But that's all it is – it's just _you_. Nothing else! There's no big meaning, no message. It's not Aang trying to speak to you from the other side. It's just _you_. Your own mind. That's all!"

Katara whimpered, still choking with tears. "I don't know..."

"You _will _save him, Katara," Sokka declared, with firm conviction. "And you'll bring him back home. You can do it. I know you can."

"But how do you know?"

"Because you're strong, and brave, and you never gave up on Aang all these years, even when everyone else did." He lifted her face up and looked her gravely in the eye. "You can do this. You can do it for Aang."

"But Sokka," she murmured, her eyes churning with sorrow and guilt, "what if – what if I'm... I mean, maybe I'm only doing this for myself. Maybe I'm just doing this for my own selfish reasons, and it's wrong, and I'm not supposed to be doing this, and I'm only putting everyone in danger and – "

"Katara, stop!" he ordered her fiercely. "What's wrong with you? Why are you talking like this?"

"Because!" she cried, pushing him away and glaring at him bitterly. "All I want is to bring him back so that _my _life will be better – so that _my _mistakes will be fixed. Because I messed everything up and I just want things to go back to the way they were before, because I didn't feel guilty back then, and things were good back then. My life was good, and he was mine, and I ruined it. Maybe the only reason I'm trying to save him is because I think that this is the only way I can ever make up for what I did! See, Sokka? I'm just doing this for _myself_, that's all! And you know what that means? It means that..." She choked, stumbling, and tugged on her hair as if she meant to pull it out. "It means that all this time, I've thought I was better than this, but really I'm – I'm still just as selfish and pathetic as I was that day when I broke his heart."

Sharp, bitter tears of self-loathing were streaming down her face. Katara quaked, and buried her face in her hands, and unleashed an exhausted, miserable groan.

It took a moment for Sokka to absorb all that – he wondered briefly if Zuko had heard all of it too, and what he thought – but that didn't matter. It was time to put an end to this madness. Fortifying himself, Sokka took her by the arms, pulled her hands away from her face, and sternly forced her to look him in the eye.

"Katara," he said. "Where are you right now?"

She stared at him, bewildered, still crying and shaking uncontrollably. "What?"

"Look around. _Where are you right now_?"

"I'm..." She frowned at him in confusion. "I'm on a bison in the middle of nowhere?"

"Where are you going?"

"To... the North Pole?"

"And why are you going to the North Pole?"

She hesitated. "Because that's where the Spirit Oasis is?"

"And you're trying to get to the Spirit World to save Aang," Sokka finished for her, breathing deeply. "Now, think about this – "

"Sokka – "

"No, stop talking and think about this!" he insisted. "Look how far you've come! Look how far you're going! You think if you were really selfish, and were only doing this for yourself, that you'd have even come this far to begin with? You've got a son who loves you. You've got me, and Zuko, and everyone – we all love you. If all you really cared about was making yourself happy, then you would have _stayed home_ with all the people who love you. But instead you're doing this: you left home because you were willing to risk everything for a chance to save Aang, because you love him and he needs you and you want him back, and we _all _want him back. Yes, you _are _doing this for yourself, Katara – of course you are. There's no way you _could _do this if it wasn't because you wanted it yourself – and there's nothing wrong with doing something for yourself anyway! But you're also doing it for all the rest of us, because we all want Aang back. And most of all, you're doing it for Aang. _I _know you are, and _you _know you are. And that's why we're going to get you to that stinkin' pond, and you're going to save Aang and bring him back here to meet his son and be with all of us again and _live his life _again. And no stupid dreams or anything else is gonna change that. Okay?"

Katara gaped at him, rather awed and humbled by his sudden, stern speech. Hiccuping on the remnants of her sobs, she slowly, slowly nodded. "Okay," she whispered hoarsely.

"Now are you gonna get some sleep?" he demanded.

She nodded again, faintly. "Okay."

"Good." He exhaled heavily, rather worn out by his tirade, and reclaimed his previous spot in the saddle, repositioning his blanket awkwardly over his legs. He crossed his arms, and leaned his head on his chest; but he still didn't go to sleep. Not yet. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Katara, watching her.

For a few minutes, she just sat there, breathing, with her arms curled up into her chest and her knees pulled up tight. Her eyes gazed dully forward, and she blinked slowly, as if she were in a daze.

When several minutes had passed, and she still wasn't going to sleep, Sokka said severely, "_Katara_."

She jumped, darting a nervous glance at him, like a child afraid of being disciplined. "What, right now?" she asked timidly.

"Yes. _Now_."

"Oh." She unleashed a deep, tremulous sigh, and then nodded. "Okay. Sorry."

He watched her carefully as she tilted herself over, limbs shaking, and rather stiffly sprawled out in the saddle. At first she lay flat on her back, with her arms folded over her chest and her legs straight out, staring up at the sky. It didn't look comfortable at all. Then she twitched slightly, and rolled over on her side, turning her back to him. Then, after only a few seconds of that, she restlessly rolled over to her other side, in an impatient jerking motion. She crunched herself tightly into a ball and shivered.

Sighing, Sokka got up again and spread his blanket over her.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem," he said. "Now relax. If you have any bad dreams, just remember they don't mean anything. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Honestly, you're so wiped out right now, you probably won't even have any dreams."

She smiled softly at that. "Yeah. Maybe you're right." With that meager bit of comfort, she finally closed her weary eyes, ready to accept the sleep that she needed so much.

And Sokka returned to his spot, arranging himself as comfortably as possible. The spot was no longer warm, and now his legs were cold. But he leaned back and soon drifted off himself, too tired to care about the cold.

* * *

><p>Katara closed her eyes, staring at the dark insides of her eyelids, willing herself to sleep. She knew Sokka was right; she wasn't going to make it much longer without sleep. The small hope that perhaps she wouldn't have any dreams at all sparked within her, growing more fervent with each passing second, filling her with the assurance she needed to make herself go to sleep.<p>

But nothing happened. And in a little while – maybe a few seconds, maybe several minutes – she suddenly became aware that she still wasn't sleeping.

Then she became aware that she was aware.

Her brain buzzed restlessly, bothering her out of the ability to drift off.

Katara breathed deeply and clenched her eyes shut tighter, as if that would somehow make her mind stop working, stop being so aware of everything.

She wouldn't sleep for very long, she decided. No – not for long. The longer she slept, the higher the chances were that she would end up having another of her awful dreams. But if she just took a nap. Just a quick one – how much could happen in that short amount of time, right? Surely it would be too fleeting for any serious nightmares to happen.

Right. Just a quick nap. That's all.

No dreams, no nightmares. Just sleep. Just enough to get her by. Just enough to make the hallucinations go away. Just enough to keep her alive and functioning properly in the waking world.

_No dreams, no dreams, no dreams_…

She repeated the command silently to herself, as if trying to control the whims of her own mind.

_Just sleep. A quick, light, dreamless sleep._

Katara suddenly thought she felt something poking her in the shoulder. Was it Tenzin? Did he want something? No – it didn't feel like his little finger, or Ursa's either. And Sokka wouldn't be poking her; he wouldn't want to disturb her. And Zuko was up at the reins, so it couldn't be him...

Oh, well. Maybe she was just imagining it. Maybe it was just her delusional, sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on her again. It would stop if she ignored it. She couldn't let herself get distracted right now. She needed to concentrate on sleeping – that was the top priority. So she squeezed her eyes shut tighter and did her best to convince herself that there was nothing poking her shoulder at all.

_Just ignore it, Katara. Just go to sleep. Don't think about anything else. Just let go._

But the incessant poking continued, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more she couldn't think about anything else. She frowned, and ignored it harder. She was determined.

_You're losing your mind. You have to sleep. You have to try. Just a little slee – _

Suddenly, the poking moved from her shoulder to her nose – refusing to be ignored. She finally opened her eyes, scowling with annoyance at whoever's finger was pressing on her nose.

Aang's eyes stared back at her.

She almost jumped out of her skin. "Aang!"

He was there, lying spread out alongside her in the saddle, turned on his side facing her (at least he _did _have a face this time), gazing at her anxiously. His finger was on her nose. Her heart thudded wildly with a strange fluster of guilt, happiness, dread and relief.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Katara?"

Once the shock of him being there wore off, she closed her eyes again and sighed wearily. "Well, I was about to, until you started poking me."

Aang didn't seem very sorry for poking her, though he did take his finger off her nose. For some reason, she'd been expecting that, once they were face-to-face again, he wouldn't be happy to see her. That he'd be angry at her, or disappointed by how she'd been acting lately, or upset that she'd lost his necklace. But he didn't seem like he was any of those things; that was a relief, at least.

"Yeah, I know, but," he insisted, frowning at her with grave concern, "why haven't you been sleeping up till now? You haven't slept at all, for a while. It's... kinda bad for you, you know."

She gave him a regretful look, and sighed again.

"Because of you," she murmured. "You always show up in my dreams, and then horrible things happen. I couldn't stand it anymore."

He looked rather troubled by that, and his eyes scrutinized her face solemnly for a few moments. She was suddenly vaguely aware that his hand had wandered down to hers, where it lay between them, and his fingers were gently sliding between her own. She wasn't sure if he was actually conscious of what his hand was doing, or if it was just a forgetful gesture.

He finally sighed too. "I'm sorry," he said. "But you know, I can't really help it what happens in your dreams."

"I know."

"You _still _need to sleep though."

She exhaled wearily. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"I'm serious. It's _really _bad for you. Weird things happen when you don't sleep. Trust me."

That made Katara smile faintly. "Well, so far I haven't had any hallucinations about Appa and Momo having a duel to the death, so – "

"Oh, I told you about that, huh?"

"Yes. Yes, you did. Several times. In great detail."

"Oh... Heh. I forget what I tell you sometimes." He was grinning, amused at his own strange experience with sleep deprivation – but he quickly resumed his air of serious concern. "But really, Katara. You can't do this to yourself. You're never gonna make it if you keep going like this."

"I'm okay, Aang. Don't worry about me."

"Well, I can't help worrying!" he protested, with an indignant frown. "You don't seem like you're okay. You're a total wreck!"

She scoffed. "Gee, thanks."

"How do you feel? Do you have a fever or anything?"

"I dunno." Katara only shrugged, too tired to care – though she thought she _did _feel a little feverish, suddenly.

"How's your stomach? You're not gonna throw up, are you?"

She almost laughed at him. "No, I'm not gonna throw up. My stomach's fine. Seriously, stop worrying. I can take care of myself."

"I know that," he sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. "But you shouldn't have to since I'm here. Come on, sit up for a second."

He sat up himself as he said this, crossing his legs and scooting closer to her. Exhaustedly – and feeling mildly irked that he was making her move – she pushed herself up into a half-hearted sitting position and slouched lazily against the side of Appa's saddle. She felt tousled and foggy, and all at once she got the idea that she was more than a little congested. She didn't remember catching a cold, but somehow the notion that she was sick made sense in her mind. Why else would Aang be fussing so much? Katara pulled her blanket tighter around herself and sniffled, gaping lethargically at him with heavy, aching eyes.

Inexplicably, Aang suddenly had a steaming, delicious-smelling bowl in his hands. She had no idea where in the world he'd got it from – it just seemed to _be _there, out of thin air – but it didn't really matter. He held it out to her.

"Here," he said. "I brought you some soup. It'll make you feel better."

Katara sniffled dazedly and stared at the bowl of soup he was offering her, and then back up at him. Something in her heart prickled and melted, and she just beamed at him helplessly, surging with warm affection.

"Aw, Aang!" she exclaimed, almost laughing at him again. "You didn't have to do that."

Aang just shook his head again, closing his eyes and smiling in a rather tired way. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You can take care of yourself. Sure." But he only held the soup out to her more insistently, pushing it up practically right under her nose and giving her a hopeful, persuasive grin.

She stared at the bowl in his hands for a moment, and a sudden swell of guilt washed over her. He was too good – she didn't deserve it.

"Aang, I..." she stammered, flushing with shame. "I don't think I can."

He furrowed his brow at her. "Why not?"

She shook her head. "It's just... I haven't been very... I mean – I feel like I need to tell you something about me first. Something you need to know. About – me and Zuko..."

"What about you and Zuko?" He didn't sound at all concerned or disappointed, as she'd expected him to be, and his lack of worry surprised her and only made her feel more ashamed, somehow.

She looked up at him hesitantly, ready to confess all her guilt, ready to tell him how cowardly and treacherous she'd been. He needed to know that she didn't deserve all this. But, oddly, as soon as her eyes met his, her mind went blank, and she realized she had no idea what it was she thought she needed to tell him. So she just gaped at him, bewildered.

"You know, I – " she finally stumbled, flustered and perplexed. "I don't know. That's so strange! I can't remember."

Still holding the bowl of soup, he gazed at her, and she saw a flash of understanding in his eyes. Knowing, but not accusing. After a moment, his mouth twitched into a quiet smile.

"Well, then," he said, "it probably doesn't matter."

She could only stare at him for a few seconds. Then she finally smiled too, heart fluttering. "Yeah, you're right. It doesn't matter."

He offered her the soup again. "So... are you gonna eat this or what? It'll get cold if you just sit there staring at it."

This time she conceded to take it from his hands, beaming at him gratefully. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relieved, or so peaceful. For the first time in days, weeks, years – she felt like she knew who she was again. Not fractured, but whole and strong and familiar. She gazed wonderingly into the bowl for a second, as if it wasn't soup that he'd given her at all, but _herself_ – her equilibrium – her normalcy.

_This is right_, she thought. _This is how it's supposed to be._

The relief, the certainty, was so beautifully overwhelming that she almost couldn't handle it. Carefully sipping on a steaming spoonful of the soup, she shook her head at him incredulously, and shuddered slightly with tranquil, grateful joy, and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're the sweetest guy ever, you know that?" she said, and she meant it.

He chuckled, blushing faintly, and shrugged a little awkwardly. "It's just soup." Then, after a pause, he added, "But thanks. I try."

Katara sniffled again, wondering once more why she couldn't remember actually catching a cold, and she swallowed down more of the soup. The hazy awareness that it was warm and good drifted through her thoughts, and she knew that she was savoring the tangy flavors of the vegetables swimming in the broth – or was it some kind of meat? – No, no, Aang wouldn't make her something with meat in it... Well, it was _something _good, and that was all that mattered. She took another spoonful, and thought she felt better than she had in ages, though her head still seemed a bit foggy.

"Is it okay?" Aang asked after she'd eaten a little more of it.

Katara nodded, scooping up another spoonful. _You have no idea how good it is_, she thought about saying. But she was too busy eating, so all she mumbled was, "Mm-hm, it's really good. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He didn't say anything else for a while, and Katara was too busy with the soup to speak. After a few minutes of silence, however, as she was beginning to scrape the bottom of the bowl, she happened to glance up at him again. He was simply staring at her, with a soft, faraway smile on his face.

She was suddenly gripped by self-consciousness, and knew that she was probably blushing. "What?"

He blinked, and shrugged. "Oh, nothing." But still he kept his eyes fixed on her, and smiled a bit wider after a moment. "You look beautiful."

Her heart quivered a little, and she laughed at him softly. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said sarcastically, grinning and blushing. "A few minutes ago you said I looked like a wreck."

He chuckled. "A beautiful wreck."

That made her blush yet more fiercely. Embarrassed, she stared into the bowl for a second, fighting down an awkward, bashful laugh. Then she rolled her eyes slightly, defensively, and smiled with hesitant, sheepish pleasure. "Thanks."

After gazing at her for another small pause, he suddenly furrowed his brow slightly, as if he were baffled by his own thoughts. Then his troubled look passed, and he shook his head, and finally got up on his knees, leaning in to give her a kiss. But she anxiously put her hand against his chest and kept him at arm's length – still feeling slightly ashamed, and embarrassed about how she looked and how much he was taking care of her. But she didn't say so.

"Aang, don't!" she cried – though she _did _smile, uncontrollably. "Not while I'm sick! Do you wanna catch it too?"

He frowned at her, unhappy about being pushed back. But the next instant, he began to smirk.

"You know what, Katara," he retorted indignantly. "Maybe I do! What then, huh?"

As he said this he started to lean close again, regardless of her arm, which only put up the feeblest resistance against him. His eyes gleamed rather deviously at her, as if challenging her to stop him, and after a moment the tip of his nose brushed against hers, and she blushed ferociously and grinned at him with helpless giddiness. Her heart battered her chest wildly.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered, laughing a bit. "Don't blame me if you get sick."

"Psh! I don't care," he scoffed, sniggering. "As long as you make _me _some soup."

"Of course," she beamed. Then he brushed his thumb across her cheek and gave her a quick, quiet kiss.

It was small and ordinary, but somehow it instantly brought Katara to a boil. Everything about him washed over her all at once – his warmth, his smell, the soft pressure of his hand on her face – it all felt so strangely tangible suddenly, so lifelike. She instantly forgot everything else, overwhelmed, inundated by the aching flood of all the days and days and years that she'd been missing him: all of her accumulated longing for him, focused to a sharp point deep in her chest. Almost automatically, she set the empty bowl down beside her and snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him back in for a deeper kiss. Aang eagerly tilted into it, combing his fingers through her hair, and her entire body quaked with that acute, wistful heartache as she wrapped her arms around him tighter and strained to pull him closer. She missed him so much; the pain of it was almost too terrible to bear.

Then, without warning, Aang pulled away from her – _wrenched _himself away, violently, as if she'd burned him. He backed away from her hastily until he was sitting a few feet from her, staring at her with wide, lost, distressed eyes.

Katara was trembling, and her heart wailed to be so abruptly torn away from him. She gaped at him, confused and dismayed and breathing hard.

"Aang, what's wrong?" she cried.

"This isn't real," he stated, in a dead voice. His eyes were fixed on her, but he didn't seem to be looking at her now – he was staring straight through her, as if he couldn't see her. She thought she could almost see the life draining out of his gaze.

"What?" she gasped, as sickening dread rose up in her chest. "Aang – what's going on? Why are you acting like this?" She got up and tried to crawl to him, reaching to touch him, but he leaned away from her hand, almost fearfully.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"What?" she cried again, even more confused and frightened. "What do you mean? I'm right here! I'm right in front of you!"

"_Where are you, Katara?_"

"I'm..." Suddenly, she looked around and realized that she was not where she thought she was at all. She'd been certain a second before that they were both on Appa's back, in the saddle, flying above the sea somewhere near the North Pole. But now that she looked, she saw that she was indoors – in a dimly lit room – _her _room, her bedroom back in the Fire Nation palace, on her own bed. The sky was dark outside her window, but the moon was a hazy, red color, and it cast its sickly bloody light over every surface.

This wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be here. How had she ended up all the way back in the Fire Nation?

Bewildered and afraid, she turned her eyes back to Aang – but he was gone.

"Aang!" she screamed, practically flying out of the bed in overwhelming terror. "Aang, come back! Where are you?"

He wasn't in the room. He'd vanished, like a ghost.

Wild panic surged within her. What was she doing here? She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be in the Fire Nation – she was supposed to be saving him! She should have been at the North Pole by now, or at least almost there. How had she gotten all the way back here? Did this mean she would have to start the entire journey over again, from the beginning? If so, there was no way she could make it in time! She'd never be able to get to the North Pole in time to save him now! It was all over – it was all over – she was too late – !

But – Wait – _No_ – Her thoughts were twisting into flustered knots – But he was just here. He'd been right here, with her, only a second ago! He had to still be around here somewhere. How could he have just disappeared? She had to find him! He had to be somewhere close by!

Heart racing, she stumbled to the bedroom door and flung it open, lurching into the dark corridor outside. It was completely deserted, and ominously silent, and it seemed to stretch infinitely in both directions into deadly, abysmal blackness. Now the place was eerie and unfamiliar – it didn't look like the palace anymore at all. At least, not the palace she knew. It was like no place she'd ever seen in her life, and she didn't know where anything was, or which direction she ought to go.

But she turned to the right, arbitrarily, and raced into the thick shadows, desperate to find Aang. He had to be somewhere – how could he just be _gone?_ How could this happen? How could she have let him disappear like that? How could she have taken her eyes off him for one second? She should have known better – she should have known this would happen – it was all her fault, and now he was gone. He'd made her soup and everything, and she'd just let him vanish, and now she'd never find him, she'd never find him again. After he'd gone and made her soup! – for some reason, she kept thinking about that, growing more furious and frustrated at herself. He'd taken care of her, even though she didn't need it – he'd said she was beautiful, even when she wasn't – he'd looked past her weakness, given her back herself for a fleeting moment – he'd made her soup. How could she have taken him so much for granted? And now it was too late, she'd never get him back, and there'd never be another like him...

She didn't want another, though. She just wanted _him_. She had to find him. She _had _to.

"_Aang!_" she bellowed frantically, as her feet pounded on the unfamiliar marble floors of the endless corridor, as searing hot tears streamed down her face. "Aang, come back! _Come back! _I'm sorry! I was – I was going to say yes! Please come back! Aang – _where are you?_"

Suddenly, in the center of the pitch dark corridor, she saw a figure. But it wasn't Aang. It was a tall, slender, brown-haired woman with a white dress and a red blindfold. The blindfolded woman put a finger to her lips, wordlessly commanding Katara to stop shouting. But Katara was too panicked to be quiet.

"Where is he?" she shrieked. "Where's Aang? Where is he?"

"He isn't here," said the blindfolded woman softly.

"Then _where is he?_" Katara demanded furiously, fists trembling. "Tell me!"

"Where you going, Momma?"

Katara spun around. Tenzin was standing in the hall behind her, gazing at her with wide, curious eyes.

"I'm – I'm trying to find your father," she gasped. "You didn't see him, did you?"

"What, you lost him?" Tenzin asked, tilting his head and scrunching his nose incredulously. "How'd you do that?"

Katara burned with shame. Flushing, shuddering, fracturing again, she stumbled back against the wall and sobbed in helpless defeat.

"I... I don't know," she whispered. "But I did. He's gone. I don't know where to find him."

She slid to the ground and gave herself over to the tears. Tenzin came and put his arms around her comfortingly.

"Tell me a story," he demanded.

She sniffled and looked at him. "Tenzin – I – No, not now – "

"But you'll feel better if you do."

She sighed, and wiped away her tears. Maybe he was right. But she searched inside herself, and found herself empty. No beginnings, no middles, no ends. No stories to tell him.

"I can't," she finally confessed, feeling ashamed again. "I'm all out of stories, Tenzin."

"No, you're not," he insisted serenely.

"But – I don't have anything to tell you..."

He pointed at the wall. "What about that story? Tell me about them."

She glanced up, and saw that the opposite wall – which, moments before, she'd thought was as blank as the other walls – was covered with a large painting. A familiar one: a glowing-eyed Avatar in the foreground, dressed in black, with a sorrowful, hopeless face and chains on his feet – a yawning cavern in the background, brimming with sinister creatures ready to devour him – and a brown-haired woman sleeping at his feet, with a white dress and a red blindfold.

Katara stared at the painting for a few moments, furrowing her brow, wondering, and then admitted, "I don't think I know that story, Tenzin."

"Here, come with me," he ordered her suddenly, grasping her hand and pulling her to her feet with surprising strength.

Before she could ask where they were going, he took off running, faster than the wind, dragging her along behind him, down the endless hallway. They seemed to run for miles, and Katara thought her feet weren't even touching the ground – the two of them were just flying, gliding through the dark, infinite labyrinth, on their way to some destination Katara couldn't guess, though she thought it must be important somehow. Why else would Tenzin lead her there?

At last, they arrived – but where was it? Katara looked around, and saw they were outdoors now, in a hazy violet forest that felt strange and unreal, as if the trees were the wrong shape, or the ground was the wrong angle, or the light was the wrong color. They were standing at an entrance: a gateless arch in a high stone wall that stretched away in both directions. And inside the wall was what looked like a garden, carefully arranged, unsettlingly silent, bursting with a fragrance both soothing and surreal.

And Katara looked down, and saw Tenzin wasn't with her anymore. She'd come here alone.

But maybe Aang was here, in the garden?

She stepped through the arch, holding her breath and hoping.

Inside – everywhere – beneath the trees and amongst the flowers and beside the flowing streams – were dozens, hundreds, _thousands_ of creatures: men, women, children, animals, and strange monstrous things that Katara had no name for. They wandered through the garden, slowly and lethargically; some lay motionless in the grass. All of their faces were covered, wrapped in white cloths.

And just beside the entrance, waiting to greet her, was the blindfolded woman again, standing solemnly in her white garments.

Katara just stared at the woman curiously for a moment, bewildered and uncertain. She felt as if she'd gotten lost somehow, and had found her way here by accident – though something also told her she was supposed to be here, that she'd been called.

"Where's Aang?" Katara asked the blindfolded woman again, quieter this time. "Is he here? What is this place?"

But the blindfolded woman didn't answer. She only put her finger to her lips again, then took Katara by the arm and led her down a path that ran straight through the strange garden, past all the creatures with their faces wrapped up in cloths, to a small door in another wall. She opened the door and gestured for Katara to go through.

Katara did, and found herself standing in a different area of the garden – or just another garden entirely – smaller, and surrounded by a shorter stone wall overgrown with thick clinging vines. A stream ran through it, with a wooden bridge spanning it, and graceful cherry trees grew beside it, dropping their fragile white blossoms into the water. The air here was warmer, clear and golden with early evening light, and Katara thought she could smell the _summer_-ness of it all. And there were two children, a boy and a girl – both no older than twelve – standing on the bridge, leaning over the wooden railing and staring into the water of the stream together, talking lazily with each other about things that Katara couldn't hear. The boy wore black, and the girl wore white. Something about the black-haired boy reminded her of Aang, or maybe of Tenzin. Of both of them, a little bit; yet also neither of them. And the girl – Katara got the strange feeling that the girl ought to be wearing a red blindfold too.

She watched, and as the two children lounged on the bridge, the boy suddenly leaned over and gave the girl a soft kiss on the cheek. Katara saw the girl's face turn red, though she smiled with obvious delight.

But Aang wasn't here, or anywhere. Katara didn't know why she'd been brought here, or who these two children were, or why she was watching this, or what this had to do with Aang at all. So she turned, glancing back at the blindfolded woman, frowning at her in confusion.

"I – I don't understand," she stammered. "Who are they? What does this mean? Where's Aang?"

Silently, the blindfolded woman raised her arm and pointed off to Katara's right, away from the two children on the bridge. Katara looked, and saw another, yet smaller door in the wall. It was slightly ajar, and an icy, dark breeze wafted through it in an unfriendly way.

She looked at the door, and back at the blindfolded woman. The woman just pointed at the dark door, without a word. Katara hesitated, heart palpitating with a heavy sense of dread, but she felt there was no use in arguing; and perhaps she'd find Aang through this door – or at least some kind of explanation.

As Katara passed through this new door, the golden summer light was replaced with darkness – deep, ominous darkness. She was standing now in a thick, tangled forest – quite different from the one she'd seen outside the garden – dim in the strangled light of the moon.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw that the little brown-haired girl was here too – the same one she'd just seen standing on the bridge – but not the boy. The girl was wandering alone through the bony trees, and she seemed afraid; she was running, eyes darting in all directions. She was looking for the boy, the boy from the bridge. Katara knew that she was looking for the boy, though she wasn't exactly sure how she knew. She could feel it; she felt the girl's fear and desperation, deep in her bones, as if the fear were her own.

But again, Aang wasn't here. Katara still didn't understand – she couldn't imagine why she needed to see this, or what this was all about – but she found herself watching anyway, unable to move or tear her eyes away.

The girl was calling the boy's name. Katara knew it, though she couldn't quite hear it for some reason. Then, as she watched the girl stumbling, screaming, panicking through the woods, Katara suddenly saw a massive creeping black shape moving in the darkness, shifting between the distant trees, scuttling like a phantom through the forest. The girl didn't see it; she wasn't paying attention; she was too preoccupied with trying to find the boy.

A horrifying dread gripped Katara instantly, and she wanted to call out to the girl, to warn her – she wanted to run, to protect her – but she couldn't move, and she couldn't speak. Could only watch the scene play out, in all its nightmarish inevitability.

The enormous black creature loomed closer, creeping up on the girl like a predator stalking its oblivious prey. The moon emerged through hazy clouds, and in the ghostly light Katara suddenly saw the monster more clearly: it looked like a giant centipede, with dozens of claws that gripped and scraped at the trees as it came. But Katara couldn't see the monster's face from where she stood, and somehow that made it more frightening.

The girl must have heard the centipede-creature slithering up behind her, because she stopped walking suddenly, holding her breath – Katara could feel her hold her breath – Katara drew in her own breath along with the girl.

With astonishing speed, the great monster arched over her head, dangling from the trees, and stared the girl directly in the eye – its face only inches from hers – and Katara felt its dark voice ripple through her flesh, though she couldn't hear what it said.

The girl fell backward with a scream.

Katara's stomach lurched.

She shouldn't have screamed. She didn't know why, but somehow she knew that she shouldn't have done it. The screaming was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She watched, helplessly, as the centipede-monster reached out its greedy talons for her face –

And suddenly, Katara realized she wasn't just watching. She _was _the girl. And it was her face being scraped by the monster's claws. Somehow she was both watching it from far away, and experiencing it simultaneously – both here and there – she was both of them, and neither of them. She was gaping into the monster's face, petrified with terror, and all she saw were scales and scars and two hollow black sockets where there should have been eyes. And it felt as if a thousand fiery ants were crawling just beneath the surface of her skin, and her body jolted with a sickening sensation of ice cold and vertigo. Her face was being stolen. She was watching it happen; she was feeling it.

And then, suddenly, the boy was there.

The boy she'd seen on the bridge. The boy who was very like Aang, and very like Tenzin, but also like neither of them. He was there, somewhere – she heard his panicked shout in the distance – he'd been looking for her, too – he'd heard her scream at the Face-Stealer – he saw her having her face stolen. And the fear must have pushed him over some kind of threshold, because suddenly he glowed: the forest blazed with the white light that burst through his eyes. He hit the Face-Stealer with a violent stream of fire, and the monster unleashed a painful roar as it was knocked away from her.

Katara could feel her face returning to itself, and she breathed with relief as the terrible feeling of icy, flesh-burrowing ants and dizzy nausea subsided. Meanwhile, she watched, as the glowing-eyed boy came after the Face-Stealer, hovering above the ground in a whirlwind of air and fire, stirring the dead leaves of the forest floor into a chaotic spiral. He thrust his arms forward, and the ground rose up to swallow the Face-Stealer, capturing his great insect-like body in a thick prison of earth. Only the monster's face – which was now a white theater mask – remained exposed, fixing the boy with a vicious, vengeful scowl, furious at having been cheated out of its prey.

The nameless young Avatar, expressionless and glowing, reached his hand out to the Face-Stealer, pressing it against the spirit's pale, porcelain brow, and a strange light burst from the boy's fingers. Some words were spoken that Katara couldn't hear, or couldn't understand. And all at once the Face-Stealer snarled with rage, erupting violently out of the earth that imprisoned him – and he slithered off into the forest, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Once he was gone, the boy's eyes stopped glowing, and his feet returned to the ground, and he swayed with dizzy exhaustion.

Then – though Katara hardly noticed it happen – everything was different.

She was running to him, and watching herself run to him. Only she wasn't the unknown girl anymore, or anyone else. She was herself, but young again. Only fourteen years old.

And the dark forest wasn't a forest at all, but somewhere else – somewhere familiar. One of the Air Temples. The Southern Air Temple. The empty realm of Aang's childhood: and she was watching herself amid the tragic crumbling ruins and the bones of long-dead Airbenders and Fire Nation soldiers.

And the glowing-eyed boy was Aang now – not simply _like _Aang, but Aang himself, also young again. He'd been there in front of her all along. Katara didn't know how she hadn't realized that it was him sooner, but she was so relieved to have found him that she could hardly breathe.

She came to him as his feet returned to the ground, as the cold white light in his eyes was dissipating, as his ordinary, simple gray-eyed gaze emerged again through the fading glow. She watched herself clutch his hand; she felt the pressure of it in her own hand. He was falling; she was gathering him into her arms, and together they were sitting on the cold, broken stones, both children again, and he leaned against her, exhausted and overwhelmed and lost and alone. And she simply wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, trying to squeeze all the love she could into him, so that he knew, if nothing else, at least he wasn't alone.

"Aang," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I knew I'd find you. I knew you were somewhere."

"Katara?" he breathed, and he sounded confused.

"I'm here," she said softly, clutching him in her arms, yearning to hold onto him forever. "I'm here. You're not alone. I won't leave you."

"I remember this," he muttered suddenly, breathing deeply.

Katara held him; she watched herself holding him. She remembered this too. It was such a long time ago, back before _everything _happened, barely even two weeks after she and Sokka had found Aang in that iceberg. They were so young. Katara remembered her old self, her fourteen-year old self: sheltered and hopeful and lonely and innocent, brimming with strength and love and trust to give away. She remembered Aang then, only twelve, a living collection of contradictions: both small and strong, fragile and powerful, childish and wise, young and old. Not yet the hero of the world he'd soon grow up to be. Only _potential_: potential personified. But already he was the one she was hinging all her hopes on. She remembered – she remembered how quickly, how easily, she'd attached all her hopes to him back then, despite Gran Gran's warning not to.

Yet now – she remembered – at this moment, regardless of all he was – the hope and savior of the world – she was holding him and comforting him and being there for him, because he needed someone, and something in her knew, even back then, that it was her he needed.

"I feel like we barely even knew each other back then," she whispered, as she watched herself holding him – as she gazed at those two familiar children sitting amongst the ruins and the bones, like it was a painting.

"You brought me back," said Aang – and suddenly she realized he was somehow standing beside her, also gazing at the scene – even as his young self leaned against her young self's chest and breathed, and she curled her arms around him tighter.

Katara felt disoriented, unsure where she was, where he was, who they were – unsure if they were children, sitting there together; or if they were merely watching themselves sit together – but it didn't matter, somehow.

"You brought me back out of the Avatar state, remember," he said quietly. "You were always able to do that. No one else ever did."

"Someone had to," she whispered, allowing a small tear to creep out of her eye. "You were so alone, and so upset. I couldn't stand to see you like that."

"I remember when we were sitting here, like this," he whispered. "When everything was gone. It felt like you were the only person in the world right then. Like there was nothing left at all, except you."

Katara wasn't sure what to say. She was too disjointed to think clearly. She felt herself sitting on the ground, holding him, afraid to let go – and vaguely, she became aware that they were both no longer children. She had no idea when it had happened, but somehow they'd both grown up, without warning. Yet they still sat there in the same place, in the ruined Air Temple, and she still kept her arms around him and let him lean against her, just as she had on that sad day so many years ago, when they were both so young.

"Everything I ever did that was actually worth something," Aang said quietly, sadly, "I did for you. Did you know that, Katara?"

Something about those words ripped her apart instantly. He'd told her that once before – she couldn't remember when – but the recognition filled her with agonizing remorse and guilt. She felt him suddenly tense up in her embrace, as if he too were in terrible pain.

"Aang – " she gasped.

"Why didn't you want me?" he finally whispered, in a broken voice.

"Aang!" she cried desperately, clutching at him more fiercely – his question was like a knife plunging into her heart. "Don't say that! Stop saying that, please! I can't stand it!"

He just heaved a weary sigh, and his voice quivered. "I guess it doesn't matter now. It's too late anyway."

"No! No, it's not! It isn't the Solstice yet – they said I'd have till the Solstice! It's not too late – "

"Maybe it's better this way."

"Stop!" She was screaming now, teeth clenched, arms trembling with the effort of holding onto him. "Stop talking like that!"

"You have to save him, Katara," said a female voice, softly, out of nowhere. Katara looked up and saw that the blindfolded woman was there again, standing over them, looking down at them, though her eyes were hidden behind the blindfold.

"But – what am I supposed to do?" she asked frantically, terrified that something dreadful was about to happen.

"Save him, Katara," said someone else – a different girl, who was suddenly there behind the blindfolded woman: another young woman with long brown hair, though her skin was darker and her eyes were blue. She looked gentle and sad. "You have to."

"I'm trying!" Katara gasped, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. "I'm _trying!_ I don't know what to do!"

"I'm sorry, Katara," Aang whispered faintly in her arms.

"Why?" she cried. "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong. It's my fault – "

"You won't forget me, will you?"

"Aang, don't!" she shrieked, quaking with dread and grief, holding him tighter, afraid that he'd suddenly disappear if she didn't. "Don't talk like that! I'm not going to forget you. I'm going to save you!"

Aang didn't say anything else. He suddenly fell silent – completely silent. And his silence only heightened her panic. Why didn't he say anything? Why wasn't he talking to her now? Was something wrong with him?

"It's too late now," said the blindfolded woman. "It's been too long."

"You can't save him," said the blue-eyed woman, with heavy grief.

Katara clenched her teeth in fury and frustration. "No!" she screamed. "You're lying! I'm going to save him! – Aang! Aang, say something! Did you hear me? I said I'm – "

But she stopped, the words drying up in her throat, draining out of her – arrested with sudden icy horror. Aang was shriveling in her arms, crumbling away, dissolving into nothing but ashes and bones, as if his true centenarian age were catching up to him in a matter of seconds, rotting him away into just another skeleton, to match his long-dead kindred.

Her head spun –

The world swam –

She felt again as if she were watching it all happen from a distance, far outside her own body. She felt like the ground was tipping on its side, like the entire world was turning over, dumping itself out. Katara let his remains drop out of her shuddering arms, backing frantically away in dizzying, nauseating terror. Her stomach lurched, and her lungs labored, and she choked and wheezed on hysterical, horrified sobs.

She didn't understand. She didn't understand. She was losing her mind.

She felt like her own body was about to fall to pieces at the hideousness of it all. Helplessly, she covered her face with her hands – she couldn't bear to look at it, at the dead pile of bones that had been Aang only moments before. Trembling, weeping violently, fighting not to throw up, she curled into a ball on the ground and clutched at her hair, at her clothes, at her arms, as if she meant to pull herself apart.

_Wake up. Wake up. Please wake up. It's too much – it's too horrible._

"It's too late," she sobbed aloud. "It's too late... I can't do anything... It's too late."

"It's not too late," said a little voice she recognized, though she couldn't think of who it belonged to. She couldn't think of anything now. Nothing was worth thinking about.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she moaned. "This isn't how it went. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

She felt a small hand on her shoulder, nudging her. "Don't cry, Momma," said the little voice.

"I don't know what to do..." she wailed, wondering furiously why she couldn't wake up, wishing it would all just end already. That was all she wanted. She just wanted it to end.

"Aren't you going to finish the story?"

Katara opened her eyes then, confused – her mind finally pulled itself together enough to realize that the voice, and the hand on her shoulder, both belonged to Tenzin. Her own little Tenzin. He'd come back, and was standing beside her now, gazing at her eagerly and tranquilly.

They weren't in the Air Temple anymore. The bones and the ruins and the horror were all gone. They were back in the Fire Nation palace again, sitting in the hall beside the painting of Avatar Tenzin and his perennially slumbering wife.

Katara feebly pushed herself up off the ground, staring at her Tenzin in teary-eyed bewilderment.

"But..." she breathed, still staggering over her sobs. "How did I get here? Was I – was I telling you a story?"

The boy nodded at her, smiling. "But you didn't finish yet. What happens next, Momma?"

She frowned at him, scrubbing the tears away, thoroughly perplexed and lost. "I... I don't know...?" she murmured. "Where was I?"

"I don't know," he repeated, mirroring her confused frown back at her. "Where are you?"

Katara looked around again – it was the Fire Nation palace, without a doubt. But she had no idea how she'd got here. She couldn't imagine why she would be here at all, at this point. There was nothing here; she didn't belong here anymore. And she was far from Aang, and far from the North Pole. What was she doing here? Shouldn't she be going to the North Pole? How had she gotten so distracted?

"Where are you, Katara?" Tenzin asked her again, staring at her intently. It unnerved her to hear him suddenly call her by her name.

"I'm..." she tried to answer, but again trailed off, overwhelmed with disorientation and despair. At last, she gasped out, "I'm nowhere."

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"I – I don't know," she answered honestly, stumbling with shame.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," she said again, feeling foolish and useless. "I don't know where to go from here. Where should I go, Tenzin?"

He studied her solemnly for a moment, and then took a few steps forward, walking past her and gazing straight ahead down the hallway. Then, without a word, he raised his arm and pointed down the corridor. Katara's eyes followed his finger, and she saw that the hallway led off toward an eerie, gnarled tree – bigger than any tree she'd ever seen – dead and wretched and menacing. At the roots of the tree lay the entrance to a dark cave. The corridor itself descended into the cave, becoming a wide staircase as it neared the tree, passing down and out of sight into the inky shadows.

Katara stood slowly, and began to walk toward the dim entrance of the cave. But she realized that Tenzin wasn't following her, so she turned back.

"Tenzin?" she asked. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I can't go with you in there!" he cried, seeming rather astonished that she'd even suggested it.

"But – " she stammered. "I don't want to leave you here by yourself!"

"You have to," he said gravely, giving her a small, encouraging smile. "It's what's supposed to happen. Don't worry, though. It's only for a little while. You'll be back soon."

"But – " she stumbled yet again, feeling sick with anxiety. "But what if something happens? What if I don't come back?"

He only stared at her for a moment, with a somber expression – one far too somber for a five year-old to wear. Then he declared, softly, and a little sadly, "Well... you still have to go."

"I can't leave you alone!"

"You have to. There's no other way."

"But – "

"You have to go!" he cut her off, shouting the words urgently, his blue eyes blazing with fierce insistence. "Hurry! There isn't much time, Momma! You can't waste any more time, or you'll be too late. You have to go _now_."

And so, with piercing regret and guilt, Katara went – almost penitently, she went, as if she were the child and Tenzin were her scolding parent. She didn't look back; she couldn't. She wouldn't have been able to move forward, if she dared a single glance back.

The hall of the Fire Nation palace vanished behind her, and so did Tenzin, and she stepped forward, descending the steps into darkness, crossing over the threshold into the cave at the bottom of the tree.

As she went, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and stood on end. She was aware suddenly that she was being followed, but she didn't look back. She heard the footsteps behind her – the footsteps of a thousand people, all descending into the cave behind her.

"Show no fear," whispered a thousand voices. "Show no emotion at all."

Katara breathed deeply, making her face as emotionless as stone, and continued her descent into darkness, wondering if she'd ever return to the light.

"So you're here at last," said a man's grave voice from the darkness of the cave ahead of her. Katara saw him after a moment, at the bottom of the stairs, standing phantom-like between deep shadows and pale spurts of misty light that drifted through the cavern: a severe-looking Water Tribe man covered in thick furs, with a sorrowful, weary look in his blue eyes, and a spear in his hands. She thought he reminded her of Aang as well, in a strange way she couldn't place; and also of her father.

She furrowed her brow at him in confusion. Several questions arose in her mind: _Who are you? Were you waiting for me? Why am I here? Where is here? Where's Aang? Can I save him? Will I ever come back? _But all that actually came out of her mouth was, "Am I – am I late?"

The Water Tribe man didn't reply; he only turned and began marching slowly into the heart of the cavern, lifting his spear as a gesture for her to come with him. She did, trotting quickly to walk beside him, still bewildered about who he was and how he seemed to know her, still anxiously listening to the thousands of soft footsteps she heard following behind them.

Katara wanted to ask the man for an explanation – any kind of explanation – and she was boiling with dread and anxiety and urgency to know if Aang was here. But she felt strangely timid, hesitant to speak to him; and he didn't say anything else to her for a long while.

As they passed deeper and deeper into the cave, followed by the silent, invisible crowd, she noticed that there were small round openings in the walls on both sides – rather like windows – providing glimpses into different chambers of the cave. Glancing through one of these windows as they passed it, Katara saw an image: a moment frozen in time, like a painting. It was an image of the centipede-like Face-Stealer himself, dangling from the ceiling of the cave with all his terrible talons greedily protracted. He wore the stolen face of a black-haired man who looked oddly familiar, though Katara couldn't fathom where she knew his face from. And a woman stood before the Face-Stealer – it was the blindfolded woman, but different (younger?), and missing her red blindfold – staring directly into the man's stolen eyes; her own face was utterly blank, emotionless.

Katara absorbed this image in an instant, only lingering long enough to wonder what it was about, but then her feet carried her onward through the cave, alongside the grim Water Tribe man, who remained silent.

She glanced into another of the small windows in the wall, and peered into a new chamber, and there she saw almost the exact same image: the Face-Stealer, and the blindfolded woman. They must have passed dozens upon dozens of chambers in the cave, and in each one Katara saw the same image. Yet each one was different somehow – different in a way she couldn't have explained. There seemed to be a progression, as if she were catching glimpses of moments taken at random out of a long history.

"What does all this mean?" she asked the Water Tribe man softly, afraid to speak too loudly.

"It's a long and unhappy story," he replied, in a grim voice rippling with bitter hatred. "You'll know it soon enough. You already know it, partly."

She glanced at him then, curious and mystified. "Who are you? Why were you waiting for me? What are we doing?"

He looked back at her, and in his weary eyes she could see how deeply the bitterness and obsession ran within him.

"What Koh stole from you," he answered quietly, "he also stole from me. But that's only part of the story."

That seemed to be all he had to say for the moment, because he fell silent for a while afterwards. Katara didn't ask anything more, too intimidated and perplexed to even know what to ask.

"Katara," he finally spoke again, solemnly, "When the moment comes, run for the light. And _don't_ _stop_. Understand?"

"What?" she asked, frowning.

But without warning he whirled on her, abruptly raising his spear – the tip of which, she suddenly noticed, glinted with a strange amber-colored liquid – and for a second she thought he meant to drive it through her heart. Instinctively, she swept her arms up to protect herself, but the man unleashed a brutal roar and launched it over her head. She turned, heart thudding in surprise and fear, and saw that the Face-Stealer was hovering in the shadows behind her – half-invisible in the darkness, though his face, which now looked like the white theater mask, stood out in strangely sharp detail. The Water Tribe man's spear hit the monster, barely penetrating his thick exoskeleton, and the shaft snapped in two, though the poisoned tip seemed to become lodged under one of the creature's scales. The Face-Stealer roared furiously, thrashing violently about, and the Water Tribe man vanished. Katara's eyes darted around, looking for him, but he was gone. And the agonized spirit convulsed and bellowed and began to heave and vomit violently – and then, in the throes of this miserable rage, the white theater mask turned its cold eyes upon Katara, and the expression on its face was one of pure, volatile hatred.

Katara turned and ran. Ran as fast as she could – ran for the light – and didn't stop.

The Face-Stealer was coming – she could hear his claws behind her in the dark – the Face-Stealer would get her, in a moment, even though she hadn't had anything to do with his attack – it didn't matter – the spirit wouldn't care, he'd only be after her face, only interested in taking out his rage on someone, _anyone._ She had to get away from that place! She had to run for the light, as fast as she could, and not stop! She ran – ran frantically, feet pounding on the hard cavern floor, heart racing, mind burning with desperate fear – certain she was about to get caught, that she could hear the Face-Stealer just behind her, she could feel his claws brushing across her back – she ran forward, forward, through the darkness toward the foggy, ghostly light – though she could hardly see where she was going, though the darkness felt thick as mud and the light was always too far away, and she didn't know if there was a way out, but there had to be a way out, there had to be! But what if there wasn't? She didn't know – she just had to run – keep running for the light – forward, forward, forward!

She ran so fast she was almost flying. And then she _was _flying. Or she was _swimming_. Swimming through the thick, inky darkness, grasping for air, desperate for escape. Swimming upward, upward, upward towards the faint, white light that loomed above her.

Then her head burst through the water, and she emerged into the air. And it was strangely warm here, and quiet, and everything was painted with moonlight: the lush grass, the distant cliffs, the whispering waterfall somewhere off to her left. Two Koi fish – one black, one white – swam in circles around her.

The Spirit Oasis.

Katara only wondered why it had taken her so long to get here.

As her eyes adjusted to the vibrant moonlight, she squinted, and saw someone lying on the bank of the pond, as if dead – no, asleep. Just asleep. His face was entirely wrapped up in white cloths, but Katara knew immediately that it was Aang, and her heart leaped.

"Aang!" she cried, struggling out of the pond and onto the bank. She almost tripped over herself in her haste to get to him.

Kneeling beside him, her fingers brushed across the cloths covering his face and hesitated – she held her breath – torn between the desperate urge to see his face again and know he was all right, and the deep, dark, deathly terror that there would be no face there beneath that cloth.

But she had to see. She had to.

Fingers trembling, she unwrapped the cloths around his face, and when at last they fell away, his face was there, and her entire body bristled with unbelievable relief. He opened his eyes, and looked bewildered, and she instantly threw her arms around him, gasping and bursting with joy that was so intense it was almost painful.

"It's you!" she cried, her voice faltering. "You're okay!"

She felt him put his arms around her, cautiously, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, and when he spoke, he still sounded lost and perplexed. "Where are you?"

Katara pulled back and gaped at him, furrowing her brow. "I'm right here!" She touched his face. "Why do you keep asking that? I'm _here! _Can't you see me?"

For a moment, he just stared at her blankly, and she got the feeling again that he couldn't see her clearly, or he didn't recognize her. Then he blinked a few times, and shook his head slightly, and his eyes lit up. "Katara!"

"Yes!" she cried. "I'm here, Aang. I'm here." She took his hands and lifted him to his feet.

He looked at her, and she saw a wave of relief pass across his expression; his mouth looked like it wanted to smile, but didn't quite; then his fleeting happiness was quickly followed by a surge of worried sorrow.

"What took you so long?" he asked quietly.

Overcome with shame and remorse, she bit her lip, then hugged him again, tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling that the words themselves were woefully inadequate. "I came as fast as I could. I didn't know where you were, and things happened, and – I'm sorry, Aang."

He put his arms around her too and held her tightly, this time with unequivocal certainty, and she was glad. And – just for a moment – she felt peaceful and warm and unbroken and normal again.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm just happy to see you." But contrary to what he said, his voice was heavy with sadness.

And as he spoke, the silver-white moon suddenly turned a gruesome shade of red, as if blood had been spilled all over it, staining it.

Sickly dread crept into her chest – something was going to happen now. She should have known it wasn't over. It was all too good to last.

Katara looked up, and saw that the Oasis was full of people: thousands and thousands of people, all wearing white, all wearing red blindfolds. They stood around her and Aang, looking down upon them, arranged in a spiral that seemed to stretch all the way up to the blood-red moon.

Katara looked down and realized that somehow she and Aang were both standing in the center of the pond now, and the black and white Koi fish were swimming in circles around their feet. The water began to churn and bubble, while dark shadows swirled in the depths.

Katara looked at Aang, frantic with the rising dread. She'd come so far, and had only just found him again, only managed to savor a single, fleeting moment of having him back in her arms, and now – now everything was going bad _again_, and she was going to lose him – she knew it was coming. It always happened like this. It was inevitable. She clenched her fists with anger. No! It was so unfair! Why did everything always get worse, somehow? Just when it felt as if it was going to be okay after all, things always got worse! Why couldn't it just leave her alone? Why wouldn't this all just _end_, already?

Aang looked at Katara, and the shards of his broken heart were in his eyes. It was the same look he'd had on his face when he left her the very last time; it was the look that had haunted her for years. Rejected and lost, beyond disappointed, bitter at himself for a million reasons he didn't understand. He'd said good-bye, and said he loved her, and she hadn't said a single word back to him until he was too far gone to hear. How could she have done that to him? All his goodness and sincerity and carefree tranquility – broken, crushed, ruined. And _she'd _done it.

"Aang," she breathed, already feeling sick with horrible anticipation. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Save him, Katara," said the thousands of blindfolded people around them, all in quiet unison.

"You have to let me go, Katara," Aang whispered, in blatant contradiction to the others.

A strange shudder crept over her then. She couldn't speak for a moment – just stared at him, bewildered and dismayed and – and, suddenly – _angry. _Angry, and frustrated, and so _tired!_ Why was this happening? Why were they ordering her to save him, while he was begging her not to? What was she supposed to do? Why was he acting this way? – Why couldn't she wake up, already!

Her fingers clutched at his clothing with almost a defiant will of their own, and she looked him severely in the eyes. "No! _No_, I – " she exclaimed, stuttering over her frustration, "I don't – I don't want to! I don't want to do what you say! I don't understand! What am I supposed to do?"

"Save him, Katara!" said all the people.

"Let me go," said Aang.

"Aang, stop!" she shouted, desperate and furious. "Why are you doing this? Why do you keep telling me to let you go? Why?"

He dropped his sad gaze, almost ashamedly, down to the dark water bubbling around their feet, and she saw quiet tears brimming in his eyes.

"Because it's better that way," he said softly. "It's all right, really. I'm glad I got to see you. But it would be better now if you just forgot about me."

"No! _No!_" she roared, taking his face in both of her hands and turning it up, so she could look him in the eyes again. "Why are you talking like this? I don't _want _to forget you! Do you hear me? I don't want to! Why do you keep telling me to? I don't – I don't understand!"

"Save him, Katara!" cried the people.

Katara gritted her teeth in frustration, shouting up at them, "I'm trying! _I'm trying!_"

"_Such a lovely face_," said a cold voice, from everywhere at once – as if the shadows themselves had spoken. It reverberated through the Oasis, and everything in sight rippled slightly. The darkness grew thicker.

"Aang!" Katara gasped in terror – something was going to happen, and she couldn't stop it – something was going to happen to him, and she couldn't save him. "Don't – don't leave me! Don't leave me again!"

His eyes searched her face sadly, anxiously – he knew something was going to happen too – and he brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I don't want to – "

"Then don't!" she commanded him, reaching up and grasping at his hand, squeezing it firmly and knotting her fingers through his, as if that would somehow keep him there. "Stay with me!"

"But I can't help it," he said, and he now looked truly terrified himself. "I can't stay, Katara. I'm not even here!"

The eerie red light of the moon somehow was turning darker, bloodier, deeper, denser – everything in the world seemed to be stained with the horrible light. The water around their feet was thrashing tempestuously now, as if the pond was boiling them alive.

"I mean – what if something happens?" Aang said, anxiety churning in his eyes. "What if you don't come back?"

"Aang, don't say that – !" she began.

But he shook his head forcefully, with an agonized grimace. "You shouldn't have come, Katara!"

"But I had to!" she cried. "I had to find you, I wanted to tell you – I was – I was going to say yes! Did I tell you that yet?"

He looked at her, surprised. "You were?"

"Yes!" she nodded fervently – and despite the growing horrors surrounding them, she was thoroughly relieved to at last be able to tell him, and make him understand. "Yes, I was! As soon as you came back. But you never came back, so I didn't get a chance to... But I was. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner! Just – please don't leave again. Please!"

Aang stared at her, and for the most wonderful fraction of a second, his face lit up with a small, subdued smile – but it almost instantly descended into sorrow again. "I'm sorry I didn't come back," he said, with deep regret.

Tears were gushing down her face by now, uncontrollably. "It's okay," she sobbed. "It wasn't your fault."

"You won't forget me, will you?"

"No – Aang!" she screamed. She hated that question, _hated_ it. It meant he was going to disappear again. "Don't say that – !"

"You'll feel better once you forget, Katara," he whispered, and his voice quivered painfully.

She was sobbing so violently, she almost couldn't speak. "No – _stop..._"

Once again, the shadows spoke: the Oasis rang with the deep, ghostly voice.

"_So sorry, my dear... Don't take this personally._"

"It's a shame you are no longer a child," said the blindfolded woman, who was suddenly standing on the bank of the pond, watching them.

"Show no fear," said all the people, looking down on the scene from their spiraling heights.

"No emotion at all," said the young blue-eyed woman Katara had seen earlier, standing beside the blindfolded woman.

"_Didn't I tell you we would meet again?_" said the shadows.

"_Such a lovely face,_" said everything – everyone – all at once.

Bewildered and frightened, Katara looked at Aang once again. He looked back at her, and she saw in his eyes that he knew it was almost over.

"Katara – " he began softly, and the tone of his voice was already saying good-bye.

"Please don't go – " she choked.

"I love you."

"_Aang – !_"

"You need to go home now."

"NO!" she thundered furiously. "I won't! Stop telling me that – !"

"What about Tenzin?" he said gently. "He needs you – "

"But he needs you too!" she protested. "We both do!"

"Save him, Katara!" cried the people.

"_Such a lovely face_," crooned the shadows.

"Don't – don't tell me to let you go again!" Katara shouted at Aang, trembling with grief and rage. "Do _not _tell me that! I _won't_ do it! Do you hear me?"

"No – " Aang stammered, shaking his head suddenly and frowning, as if he were baffled by his own thoughts. "No – you can't give up, Katara!"

For a moment, she just blinked at him, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't let go!" he cried urgently. "You can't!"

Her mind spun in bewilderment. "But you said before – ?"

He shook his head again. "Wait – no, I'm sorry – "

"What?"

"No – it's better if you forget – "

"_What?!_"

"You'll never come back," he insisted, gazing at her beseechingly. "Tenzin! What about Tenzin?"

"But I – I don't understand – !" she stammered in distress.

"No, listen – " He shook his head yet again. "You can't give up!"

"Stop it! _Stop it!_" She was screaming in frustration now, dizzy with confusion. "Make up your mind, Aang! What do you want?"

All at once, he stopped shaking his head – stopped arguing with himself – and gave her a very earnest, serious look. "What do _you _want, Katara?"

She gaped at him – and for the smallest instant, there was utter silence everywhere, as if everything was holding its breath –

Then she burst out, "I want you!"

His eyes gleamed at her. "Then come get me," he said softly. "Hurry."

And somehow, in that single moment, with that one simple exchange, every ounce of confusion, conflict, uncertainty, inadequacy within her evaporated – vanished, like a candle flame blowing out. Her fractured pieces came together, and she knew herself again, and she knew. Katara felt herself surge with defiant, unquestionable, glorious resolve.

"Okay!" she gasped, nodding fervently. "Okay, I will! I'm coming – " And she kissed him fiercely.

Aang kissed her back, crushing her vigorously in his arms.

"Save him, Katara," said the people. The shadows were seething around them.

Pulling away from the kiss, Aang whispered again, "I love you."

"I love you too," she exhaled breathlessly.

He smiled slightly. "Thanks for telling me."

"_Save him, Katara_," said the people. The water of the pond was still swirling with the moon's bloody glow, and the darkness grew heavier and stormier everywhere, swallowing the Oasis, creeping in from the edges and sweeping steadily towards the pond. Katara studied Aang's face for a moment, heart racing with anxiety.

"Am I going to save you, Aang?" she asked. "Will we make it back home?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But there's one thing you need to remember – "

"What?"

"It's extremely important – "

"What is it?"

"Listen!" He looked at her anxiously. "No matter what happens, no matter what he does to you... _Don't cry, Katara_."

And before Katara could respond, she slipped out of his arms, straight down into the churning pond, vanishing beneath the surface of the water.

* * *

><p>Katara lurched up in the saddle, gasping for air, trembling from head to toe. Her face and neck were wet with perspiration, and her hair clung to her skin, and her heart was racing madly as if she were free-falling through the sky.<p>

"Katara!" someone cried – it was Zuko. He was beside her, staring at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Did you have another nightmare?" Sokka asked from his spot on Appa's head, glancing back over his shoulder anxiously.

"Was it about daddy?" Tenzin asked – he was awake now, also gazing urgently at her.

"Or the Face-Stealer?" asked Ursa.

For a while, she couldn't bring herself to answer any of them. Zuko put his hand on her shoulder, studying her face worriedly, and the children were gaping at her with anxious curiosity, and she could see Sokka watching her intently as well. She realized that the sun was rising, and the air around them was frigid and fresh.

Waving her hand dismissively, struggling to catch her breath and recover her voice, at last she whispered:

"I'm fine. Everything's okay – it really is. Let's just get to that magic pond as quick as we can, all right?"

* * *

><p><em>Hee-hee! <em>_So__ happy to post this chapter!... Anyway, yes. Katara was in no shape to be saving Aang before now__ – she was just a mess. But now it looks like she might finally be ready! And you know what that means... _:D

_It means that the next chapter's gonna be about Toph and everyone on the ship, heh. Sorry, I know we're all anxious for the magic pond, but I left Toph on a pretty horrible cliff-hanger before, and I really need to check in with her before we get to the North Pole in the chapter after that._

_Oh! Did I say the North Pole in two chapters? Drat, now I've gone and spoiled it! _ ^_^


	34. Blindsided

_So I came up with the idea for this chapter about two months ago, around 3:00 or 4:00 AM on a long overnight flight from Denver to Anchorage (I can never sleep on planes). And in a sleepy creative whirlwind, I pulled out a pen and a notebook and began to write down the ideas. And as I was writing, my pen __**exploded**__._

:D

_True story._

Aang: "It was probably because of the altitude."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Eh? What's that you say?"<br>Aang: "Altitude. Atmospheric pressure. You know. That's probably why it exploded." ^_^  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "What are you, a meteorologist?"<br>Aang: "Um, no...? I'm an Airbender...?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "... Well. Don't give me that sciencey logic nonsense. I prefer to believe that the pen exploded because of the fervor of my writerly passion!"<br>Aang: "Okay... Whatever makes you happy, I guess." :/

* * *

><p><strong>BLINDSIDED<strong>

When Toph returned to her senses, the ground had ceased to exist.

At first all she knew were many cold, salty gusts of wind, pushing and shoving her from every conceivable direction. Then she heard the gentle crashing of the sea – but it sounded far away and almost imaginary. Then she felt the gag yanking cruelly against the corners of her mouth. And as feeling returned to her limbs again, she became aware of the rough, scratchy material chafing against her wrists.

But none of these things mattered really. What was important at the moment was the fact that _the ground was gone_. Her feet were merely dangling, dangling blindly, and the only thing she felt beneath them was space – empty, formless space.

There was no ground. Nothing beneath her feet. It was gone. The world was gone – taken away from her. She was floating somewhere in a foggy cloud of complete nothing.

Her first instinct was to be perfectly still, to not even breathe. She did so for several minutes.

Then, her second instinct was to move a lot – thrashing about with everything she had, hoping to hit something solid in the emptiness, something that would give her her sight back, something she could bend – something concrete to at least give her a sense that such a thing as _ground_ still existed.

But she found she couldn't move her arms. That rough material burned and scraped at her flesh when she tried, and all her muscles and joints were hurting, throbbing horribly. Her disoriented mind gradually arrived at the notion that her arms were somehow being pulled from her shoulders – at least, that was what it felt like. Then it occurred to her that the rough, scratchy material pulling on her arms was rope. Thick, useless, unbendable rope, firmly knotted, preventing her from moving anything except her dangling feet. And no matter how she kicked, struggled to stretch her legs out into the space, in any direction – there was nothing there. All the world had vanished; all except for those awful ropes.

The panic, the panic was growing.

Where the hell was she?

Somewhere – nowhere – obviously hanging in the air, but where on the ship? She _was_ still on the ship, right? Yes – no, yes, she had to be. But where? and how high? from what? _over _what? over nothing? over nothing but the empty space where the world used to exist?

Dangling in the air. Like a blind little worm on a fishing line.

Toph began to lose control of how quickly she was breathing, how fast her heart was beating. She sucked in gasps of air rapidly through the gag in her mouth, and fought to stay calm. She was okay, she was okay – she wasn't dead, right? There was that, at least. It would be okay. She could think of something. She just had to calm down and _think_.

What could she do? There was nothing she could bend. Now that her mind was more clear, she did have a sense of vague metal shapes around her, distant, somewhere in the endless cloud of nothing, but mostly unreal, like wisps of smoke. But even they didn't seem right: she was sure that she could sense where the great metal bulk of the ship was – yes, it had to be the ship – but it was in the wrong place. It wasn't below her, but off to the side. Was that right? Was that really it? Was it anything at all, or was her brain just desperate to formulate some notion of space, even if it was entirely imaginary?

Either way, whatever metal forms she thought she could sense were all too far from her for her to do anything with them, too far to be anything but ghostly shadows of reality. If there had been some earth around – some rich, familiar, substantial dirt – instead of metal, she could have done something, she could have bent it from this distance, even with her arms tied. But not metal. Metal was faint and slippery, harder to get a grip on, especially from far away, and _especially _without being able to touch it, or anything else, or even see clearly where it was.

And she couldn't move her arms anyway. She couldn't bend. Couldn't see. Her heart began racing again, despite her efforts to stay calm, overwhelmed with that same uncontrollable panic she'd felt before when Azula had hit her with the dart: that horrible, painful, helpless panic that consumed everything, _everything_, like a wildfire. Her thoughts danced in mad, tight, inescapable circles to the furious beat of a single dreadful rhythm:

_Can't move. Can't bend. Can't see._

And everything was so deadly silent, so empty. Where was anyone? She could tell that the sun hadn't come up yet – but were they _all _still sleeping? Where were they? And where was Azula?

Azula – _Azula! _She'd done this! Where was she? What was she doing now? _Where was Azula?_

Her fear boiled up inside of her, bubbling into an intense fiery rage that focused itself entirely on _Azula_ – on just the name itself – like sunlight focused through a lens into a sharp, blazing beam. Azula had done this. Azula had made her panic. Azula had made her blind.

Toph had disliked many people in her life. She'd even despised a few. Only one or two people, perhaps, she could say that she'd truly hated.

But she'd never hated anyone the way that she hated Azula at that moment. It was almost beyond hate, and it lit her blood on fire and made her tremble and thrash and gnash her teeth against the gag, at last erupting from every inch of her body in a savage, wordless, mindless roar, powerful despite being muffled.

It was more than hate. It was a craving to kill – a feeling Toph had never experienced before in her life. A mad, animalistic rage born out of desperation and terror and helplessness. An overwhelming need to make the person who'd done all this to her – who'd put her here where she couldn't see, who'd stolen the world out from beneath her feet, who'd made her afraid and stripped her of all agency – the need to make that person stop existing.

Toph, hanging blind and powerless in the air, smoldered with the wild desire to eradicate Azula from the face of the planet. Her greatest frustration was the fact that her brutal, furious energy had nowhere to go, no outlet for release. All she could do was scream again, scream through the gag, scream with all her strength and rage until she couldn't scream anymore, in the hope that someone would hear.

But her only reply in the dark emptiness was silence.

* * *

><p>Sometime before sunrise, while most of the ship slept in grateful peace, an eerie discomfort fell over Ursa, and she fitfully turned over on her small bunk in one of the lower-deck cabins.<p>

Although it seemed likely now that Azula wasn't on the ship anymore, she was undoubtedly in her mother's thoughts, haunting them and keeping Ursa awake. Azula seemed to bring sleeplessness with her wherever she happened to be, even if the only place she happened to be was in someone's mind.

Ursa's stomach churned with strange uneasiness. For some reason, she felt as if she didn't deserve to be sleeping now, as if she somehow hadn't earned the right to sleep. She'd been feeling fine earlier, glad to have reunited with Zuko, satisfied that Yonten had forgiven her. But there was Azula now, lurking in her consciousness –

Was she dead?

Had she died in the fight? They'd all been afraid that she'd managed to survive and climb back on board, but the longer the ship remained restful and silent, the more likely it seemed that she really was gone.

The thought of her daughter drowning alone in the ocean was a terrible one to Ursa. It made her sick to think of it: the child she'd carried years ago, the beautiful little girl she'd held in her arms so many times – swallowed up by the sea, alone and exhausted, sinking into the depths...

And yet –

Yet, Ursa hoped, just as all of them hoped, that Azula was gone, that she hadn't gotten back on board. No one wanted to believe that Azula was hiding somewhere on the ship. They all wanted to believe that the threat had passed for good. Only a few hours ago, Ursa herself had gone to bed in relative tranquility, as everyone else had, with the confidence that Azula wasn't on board – that they were all safe.

What was keeping Ursa awake now was the haunting awareness that by hoping they were all safe, she was actually hoping that Azula was dead. Hoping that her own daughter had drowned, because that meant that the danger was gone, that they wouldn't have to be afraid.

And the knowledge that something inside her wanted Azula to be dead was more terrible than the thought of Azula dying. Much, much more terrible.

_Azula. What happened to you?_

Of course, Ursa knew what had happened to her – everyone in the world knew the story now, of Azula's one-day reign as Fire Lord, her abrupt descent into madness, her defeat and incarceration and escape from prison, her wild obsession with power and revenge. Ursa knew about all of that, yet she still couldn't help but ask herself the question: what happened? Even knowing the answer, the entire thing didn't seem real. It didn't make sense. What had gone so wrong inside her? When had the wrongness started? Had it been there all along? Whose fault was it?

Ursa shuddered in her bunk. Ordinarily, she could have blamed Ozai for the way Azula turned out; it would have been easier to believe that he'd passed his own monstrousness onto her, just as his father had passed it along to him. But the words that Azula had said to her several nights ago in the palace still rang in her head:

_See, mother? You were right about me all along. I _am _a monster_.

And she was. She _was _a monster. There was no denying it. Her daughter had grown into a monster. But Azula didn't blame Ozai; she blamed _her_.

And Ursa couldn't help but fear – even believe – that Azula's words were true, and her blame was justly placed. Perhaps it really _was _her fault. Perhaps, somewhere inside, Ursa had always believed that Azula was a monster, and Azula had simply lived up to the expectations placed on her.

And now – now, Azula was probably gone, and Ursa's greatest emotional response was relief. _Relief!_ Relief that her own daughter had died a horrible death! What was wrong with her?

Had she even given Azula a chance to be something other than monstrous? Ursa desperately wanted to believe that she had, but – she wasn't sure. She couldn't quite fit herself back into her old mind, into the mindset of the person she'd been sixteen years ago, to recall clearly how she'd viewed Azula back then. That younger version of herself was long-faded and difficult to bring back, difficult to analyze and judge. But Ursa feared that perhaps, back then, she'd only ever seen Azula as something frightening and disturbing, and she'd allowed those attitudes to change the way she'd treated Azula. And perhaps, in her inability to control herself, she'd only unintentionally fed into Azula's latent madness, giving it fuel to grow.

Ursa sat up, rubbing her aching eyelids miserably. These thoughts were unbearable. Especially here, in the silent darkness of the small cabin, where there was nothing else but thoughts.

Hastily pushing herself out of the bed, she left the cabin, heading for the upper deck to get some fresh air and calm herself down a bit.

Out on the upper deck, she breathed in the refreshing sea air, but still felt that odd uneasiness. The deep darkness of the last few minutes of night was peaceful, but also eerily vacant. The ship seemed almost deserted now: a stark contrast to the anxious bustle of the night before.

There was no one else in sight. Where was everyone?

Ursa could only assume that most of the soldiers who were awake and patrolling at the moment were probably down below, rather than up here – all wary that Azula might be hiding deep in the ship somewhere. Though, most likely, the majority of the soldiers and crew on the ship were simply still sleeping. A sense of restful security had settled over the ship during the course of this rare uneventful night, and after so many nights of wakeful terror, Ursa couldn't imagine what a relief it must have been for everyone to have a chance to sleep without fear.

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself in the chilly morning wind, blinking heavily with the sleep that wouldn't come to her, Ursa turned and began to stroll very slowly alongside the ship's railing, heading in the direction of the stern, with the intention to keep walking around the ship's perimeter until her mind felt a little less troubled.

As she drew nearer to the stern, her foot suddenly stepped on something in the darkness: something very small and hard.

Kneeling, Ursa picked up the little object and held it close to her eyes. It looked like a necklace: a frayed ribbon with a small stone disk attached to it, carved with a design that had been smoothed and faded with age and the frequent touch of fingers. The design was graceful and elegant, like flowing water or rushing wind, and Ursa turned it over and saw that on the back was a small inscription: _Love is brightest in the dark_.

She frowned, puzzling. Where had this come from? Whose was it? She didn't remember seeing anyone wear it before.

With a shrug, she slipped it into her pocket, reminding herself to ask Suki or Toph later if they'd lost it, or if they knew whose it was. Perhaps it was Katara's? The design was rather Water Tribe-ish – though Ursa knew almost nothing about the Water Tribes, so it was difficult to say for sure.

Before she'd taken another step, she suddenly heard a faint thud, coming from around the corner a short distance ahead of her. Then, a moment later, it was followed by a strange, soft hissing noise – an almost sizzling noise.

Then, from somewhere far behind her, in the direction of the ship's bow, she heard another odd sound: a muffled roar, like some faraway person screaming with all their might into a pillow. But that noise was so faint, and so obscured by the ubiquitous sounds of the ocean, she wasn't entirely sure she'd actually heard it.

Her heart instantly began to pound with inexplicable anxiety. Something was dreadfully off. The nauseous uneasiness that had been troubling her for hours immediately increased, though she had no idea what she was afraid of.

Since the first noise was closer and clearer (the odd sizzling sound was still going), she made up her mind to investigate that first, fortifying herself against the overwhelming sense of dread.

Holding her breath, keeping herself carefully pressed against the wall, Ursa stepped forward – softly, slowly, tentatively – until she was able to peer discreetly around the corner. And an icy tremor passed through her body at the sight that revealed itself in the deep darkness.

There were two figures: one, a man – one of the soldiers – lying on the ground in a silent, motionless heap, his head twisted at a terrible unnatural angle; the other, a slender figure with torn and tangled hair, crouching by one of the doors that led down into the lower decks. Her fingers were alight with searing blue flames, almost white with the intensity of the heat, illuminating her face in an eerie light – that face that was both so familiar and so alien to Ursa, with the power to make her feel instantly, indescribably aghast. The sizzling sound came from the wild girl's flaming fingers as she carefully ran them around the edge of the door, gnawing at her lower lip with concentration and purpose, breathing heavily, eyes simmering with that strange, half-real, savage cunning that Ursa had seen before when she'd encountered Azula back at the palace.

So she was here. She was alive after all.

And Ursa's greatest emotional response to this revelation was fear: petrified terror. For a few minutes she was simply frozen, unable to do anything but watch the uncanny silhouette of Azula moving her flames slowly around the metal door frame. Ursa gaped helplessly, as if she didn't even believe that what she was seeing was real – as if she thought she was dreaming. Her stomach churned with confusion and dread.

And then, finally, her mind began to work again.

_Azula_. Azula was here. She was really here. She was on the ship. She was doing something – what was she doing? _What was she doing? _

Ursa watched – the distorted metal around the door glowed deep orange with fierce heat, and then gradually began to fade and cool. She was welding the door shut.

But why? To what end?

Pulling back and pressing herself against the wall, Ursa struggled to breathe, mind spinning, trying to latch on to some rational idea about what she ought to do, how she ought to handle this situation –

Should she try to stop Azula? Should she perhaps try to talk to Azula, reason with her? That hadn't worked particularly well before. And perhaps Azula would only snap her neck as well.

A horrific idea suddenly occurred to Ursa. Was that why the deck seemed so utterly deserted? Had Azula been quietly murdering the patrolling soldiers all night?

Her stomach lurched. She needed to tell someone – she should go find Iroh, and Toph and Suki, and the general – she should alert the others. She should go back below deck as quickly as possible, get away from there, find someone, tell everyone. Azula was here. They needed to know. Everyone needed to know, _now_. Ursa had no idea what Azula was attempting to do, but it was certainly bad, whatever it was. Did she think that she could somehow trap them all down below, by sealing up all the doors? Surely she wasn't insane enough to think that would actually hold everyone? What was she planning? Had she thought it through? Did she even _have _a plan, or was her mind just too far gone now?

It didn't matter. Ursa had to wake up the ship, alert everyone, _right now_.

Turning in a frantic haste, she took a step back the way she'd come – but her legs faltered, feeling strangely feeble, as if the sight of Azula had turned her bones to jelly – and she stumbled, quickly recovering herself, pulling herself together, reeling dizzily against the wall for a moment. She started running again, faster this time, terrified that Azula might have heard the noise of her stumbling. And as she'd dreaded, a second later she heard swift footsteps behind her, coming after her. She ran with all her might, imagining that she was about to be killed at any moment by a burst of flames or a lightning bolt.

Azula, utterly silent, and much faster than she was, quickly caught up to her. Ursa suddenly felt her daughter's powerful fingers grab hold of her hair from behind and yank her back, and then her other cold hand clamped itself over Ursa's mouth, smothering her scream of pain and fear.

Ursa almost expected to instantly hear the crack of her own neck snapping in Azula's hands. But Azula didn't kill her.

"Oh – it's you again," she scoffed in a careful hush when she saw Ursa's face. "Mother, really, didn't I _just _tell you to leave me alone? Why can't you ever listen?"

Her hand was still covering Ursa's mouth, so Ursa couldn't reply, even if she'd been able to speak – which, at the moment, with her heart stuttering in fear and her breath barely scraping by, she probably wouldn't have.

"Well, look," Azula whispered in her ear, as if she were sharing a secret with her. "This is pretty important, all right? I'm kind of in a precarious situation at the moment, and I really just can't have you throwing off my concentration right now. Everything has to be done perfectly, understand? And you'll only distract me. So, we're going to have to chat later, if that's all right with you. Good-bye."

Then Ursa felt a sudden, sharp blow to the side of her head, and everything instantly went black.

* * *

><p>Awoken by some foreboding darkness that he didn't understand, Yonten rose early from his sleep and wandered down deep into the ship's lower decks, wondering what time it was, and if Toph was awake, and why he felt as if an ominous cloud of disaster were hovering over the entire ship.<p>

Ever since he'd spoken to Toph about what she'd seen lurking in the ship – or what she _hadn't _seen – he'd been feeling wary. He thought he was probably more wary than everyone else on board; none of the others seemed concerned at all. Not even Toph, which rather irritated him, since she ought to have been the most concerned of all of them.

She was just too talented: that was her problem. She was too skillful and powerful. She thought she could handle the entire world. Granted, she probably could – but still. He wished she would just be a _little _less cocky now and then, regardless of how much her cockiness might be justified.

Where was Toph now? Wherever she was, did she also sense the same sinister gloom that was keeping him awake? Or would she simply tell him to stop worrying and go back to sleep, giving him a hefty whack for good measure, as she did? He sighed – she'd probably do that regardless.

Come to think of it, where was _anyone_? The emptiness of ship's corridors was only making him even more unsettled.

Then, he turned a corner and found himself at an abrupt dead-end – a dead-end that didn't belong there. The metal walls of the corridor were completely folded in on themselves, crumpled like paper, as if they'd been pulled together by two very powerful hands, blocking off the passage completely.

For a moment, he just blinked at the sight in surprise and astonishment.

Then his mind began to whir busily. This was Toph's doing – of course she'd done it: no one else could have done anything like this. She'd bent the walls together. But why? To block of the hallway? To keep someone out? No, _no_, to keep someone _in?_ To stop someone from escaping –

Azula!

Azula was here! That had to be it! She was on the ship! And Toph had found her, and had chased her, and had pulled the walls down to keep her from getting away, and then –

Then? What had happened? Had she caught Azula? Had she beaten her?... But, surely, if Toph _had _beaten Azula, she would have told someone? She would have woken the ship to tell everyone that Azula was here, and that she'd been beaten. Yet no one was awake, and all had been quiet for hours, and no one else was even aware that Azula was here...

And where was Toph?

His heart suddenly began to race with dread. Where was Toph? He hadn't seen her at all since he'd woken up. The last time he saw her was the previous evening, before they'd all gone to sleep. Where was she? What had happened?

"Toph!" he shouted, though he doubted that she was on the other side of the crumpled walls.

As he expected, there was no answer, and so he hastily turned and ran, hardly thinking, heading for the nearest staircase to get up to the top deck, though he wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find up there. Why the upper deck? Why did he feel so strongly that that was where he needed to run? He didn't know, but he didn't question the instinct. He just ran, leaving a fierce gale in his wake, flying up staircase after staircase, past deck after deck, racing for the top.

At last, he glimpsed one of the exterior doors that led out into the open space of the stern. He reached for it and threw his weight against it – and with a loud bang he was thrown back, shoulder throbbing and head ringing.

Baffled, he gaped at the door, almost indignant that it was still closed. He pushed against it – then pounded against it – then hurled himself against it, again and again, yet it still wouldn't open.

Panic gathered like a storm deep within him, increasing with each time the door refused to open. Azula had done this. He was sure of it. She'd sealed the door shut somehow. Because she didn't want them out on the deck. Because she was out there – because she had Toph out there, maybe? – because whatever she was up to, she didn't want them interfering.

Frantically, he took off back down the hall, desperate to find his way through the ship's confusing corridors to get to a different door. How many were there? She couldn't have sealed them all, right? She couldn't possibly have closed off _all _the exits! At last he did find another door, but it too wouldn't open for him, no matter how fiercely he pounded on it.

It was then that an eerie, unreal noise broke the drowsy silence – and all of the sleeping occupants of the ship awoke very suddenly to the sound of a cold female voice crackling over the ship's communication system.

"_If I could have everyone's attention for just a moment..._"

Down in one of the lower deck cabins, Iroh awoke, startled out of a dream, and felt his heart go cold at the sound of that voice.

Suki, who'd fallen asleep in one of the ship's storage rooms and had been enjoying a deep, much-needed slumber, also stirred awake with a sudden jolt of horror, upsetting Momo, who'd been curled peacefully up beside her.

And at the sealed exterior door, Yonten ceased his desperate pounding, leaning against the wall and listening with breathless dread. He'd never heard the voice before, but it wasn't difficult to guess whose it was – and it sounded just as cold and heartless as he'd imagined it would.

"_I hope you've all had a lovely sleep_," said Azula, and the triumphant delight in her voice was clear even through the metallic reverberations of the speakers. "_I hate to wake everyone up so early, especially since I'm sure you all must be quite disappointed to find out that, yes, as a matter of fact, I_ am_ still very alive and very much on this ship... So sorry to have to break the bad news to you like this._"

Yonten's mind whirled. The bridge. She was on the bridge – that was where the communication device was. Had she killed the officers on the bridge then? – Or had she merely threatened them into submission somehow? If she'd killed them, then who was steering the ship? Would they be lost at sea? No – surely she would have kept _someone _alive, to navigate. Unless she was so insane that she hadn't even thought about that.

"_I'd hoped we could make it to the North Pole without a fuss," _Azula went on coolly, "_but, things have changed, and so I've had no other choice but to take charge of the situation. __You see – while most of you were snoozing away, I've been quite busy at a few little projects here and there around the ship..._"

They had to get up there! But the bridge was two flights up from the top deck, and the only entrance to it was an exterior metal staircase – a staircase they couldn't reach unless they were _outside_, on the deck. And she'd locked them in. She'd locked them in.

Yonten soon heard footsteps behind him in the hallway, and turned to see a few soldiers sprinting towards him, followed by several more farther down the hall. Suki, too, pushed her way up to the forefront of the gathering group of soldiers, fans drawn, with a fierce look in her eyes. When she saw Yonten leaning futilely against the closed door, she paused, frowning at him with sharp urgency.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Why are you just standing there? It's Azula! She's up on the bridge! We need to get out there!"

"She's sealed the doors shut," Yonten replied, and the quiet despair in his voice surprised even himself.

"What?" she blurted, and a few of the soldiers also made various exclamations of dismay and spat out frustrated curses.

"_I'm sure by now, a few of you might have noticed that all the exterior doors have been welded shut – _"

"Let's go check the other doors!" cried one of the soldiers, gesturing to a few of his comrades. "Maybe she missed one!" The group of them hastily sprinted off down the hall.

"This is ridiculous!" Suki roared furiously. "She can't actually think she can get away with this! Toph'll rip these doors apart in a second – "

"Where _is _Toph?" came Iroh's voice from down the corridor, as he ran panting up to them.

"I don't know," Yonten moaned in desperation. "I think she – I think Azula – "

"_And if you're wondering why your little Metalbender isn't around to let you out_," Azula suddenly added, as if she were reading their thoughts, "_don't waste your time looking for her. You won't find her anywhere down there, I'm afraid_."

Everyone froze. Yonten felt his heart stop for a moment, and he, Suki and Iroh all exchanged speechless glances of horror.

"She – no, she can't have – " Suki stammered hoarsely, the blood draining from her face.

"_Oh, but don't worry yourselves too much. She's still alive, for the time being – as long as everyone is willing to cooperate._"

An uncomfortable burst of relief passed over them for a second – but it left a cold, queasy feeling in each of their stomachs. Both Iroh and Suki's faces darkened with grim fury, and Yonten clenched his fists and breathed heavily, fighting against a growing storm of rage.

"Suki!" cried Ashiro's voice, as the general rushed anxiously down the corridor toward them, followed by several more of his soldiers. "There you all are! Has she sealed this door too?"

"Yes," Suki replied bitterly. "Did you check the others? Are they all closed?"

"All five of them," he growled fiercely, shaking his head.

"Windows?" Yonten asked frantically. "What about the windows? We can break one and – "

"They're all too small," Suki shook her head at him. "Haven't you seen them? Only someone the size of Tenzin could fit through."

"So she's trapped us down here!" Ashiro scowled grimly.

"No!" Iroh cried suddenly, his face lighting up with sudden hope. "No, she hasn't! What about the hole in the deck? From the explosion? She can't have covered that."

Before he'd even finished speaking, Yonten took off running, pushing past all of them and racing away down the hall, followed closely by Suki and the others. As they ran, Azula's voice continued to reverberate mechanically through the long corridors.

"_My demands are very simple_," she said serenely. "_Just like the rest of you, I want to get to the North Pole, and I'd prefer to get there as soon as possible, and without any unnecessary complications. So, this is my proposal: the ship stays on course to the North Pole, and in the meantime, none of you cause any trouble for me, and in return, I won't cause trouble for any of you. Sounds fair, doesn't it? Sounds like a reasonable arrangement? I certainly think it does. I may be mad – ha! yes, I might be – but that doesn't mean I can't be reasonable when the situation demands it._"

Yonten was the first to arrive at the place where the great gash in the upper deck had been ripped open, and his heart pounded when he turned down the hall and caught a glimpse of the early morning sunlight slanting down through the obliterated ceiling. He skidded to a stop below the hole, wind whipping his clothes, and launched himself upward on a hasty burst of air, landing lightly on the edge of the hole, out in the open space of the deck. The fresh, freely-flowing sea breeze filled his lungs hopefully, and – without waiting for Suki, Ashiro and the others, who'd all arrived behind him – he took off at once in the direction of the narrow metal staircase that led up to the bridge, forgetting about everything other than stopping Azula and discovering what she'd done with Toph.

But before he'd taken three steps, a jagged bolt of lightning came seemingly from nowhere, striking the deck almost directly in front of him and throwing him backwards into the air. He flew heavily back into the hole, crashing violently into Suki and several of the soldiers. They all collapsed in a painful heap on the floor, and for several moments Yonten couldn't even move – he only lay on the ground, groaning in agony, muscles seizing and twitching with the pulsing, stabbing bite of the electric shock.

"_Aha!_" Azula's voice chortled over the speakers. "_There you are! I was wondering how long it would take you all to remember that enormous hole I unfortunately blew in the deck. Yes, well done. You've discovered the one inconvenient flaw in my arrangement. So now, I suppose, it's time I showed you something that I think you'll all find fairly significant. Ahem – if I could direct everyone's attention upward to the loading crane on the starboard side..._"

Suki pushed herself up off the ground, and she and Iroh helped lift Yonten back to his feet, and he leaned against them feebly, still tensing and grimacing from the lightning strike. Together, they and Ashiro and all the soldiers gazed up through the hole, squinting, struggling to see clearly in the hazy morning light, all breathless with dread. The crane that Azula was referring to – one of several large cranes on the freighter, normally used for hauling cargo – was just across the deck from where they stood, and something rather small appeared to be dangling from the far end of it by a long, thick rope. After a few moments, as the light of the rising sun grew stronger, they all realized that it was Toph hanging from the end of the crane, suspended out over the ocean, tied up by her arms, kicking and struggling fiercely.

"_Can you see? Can you see now?_" Azula asked gleefully, sounding quite proud of herself. "_If you can't see yet, you will, don't worry. It certainly wasn't easy getting _her _out of the way, believe me! But I did, I did. So, listen carefully, and I'll explain how this is going to work... You all are going to stay down there in that hole, quietly, like good people, until we get where we're going. In the meantime, I'll be up here on the bridge, making sure that the nice officers here keep the ship on the right course. And the little Mud Slug's going to stay up there in the air, where she won't be causing any trouble, and where I can keep a good sharp eye on her. My other eye, of course, will be watching that hole down there – and the second I see any of you set a single foot out on the deck, she's going to get a nice painful shot of lightning through her heart._"

Even from that distance, they could all hear Toph roaring with rage – and though her voice sounded muffled, it was fairly clear that she was in the process of spewing all the most brutal, unmentionable, ear-shattering expletives known to humankind.

"_The first time you make me hit her,_" Azula went on, "_I'll keep it mild. It won't kill her – just hurt her. If you make me do it a second time, it'll hurt her even more. But the third time will be fatal. Am I understood?_"

Suki glanced up toward the bridge, on the third floor, at the top of the severe metal tower that rose up from the center of the ship. She thought she could just make out the savage silhouette of Azula herself, standing by one of the wide windows (which appeared to be broken), surveying the deck below her, with the small metal communication tube close to her mouth. Suki couldn't see any of the officers up there, but she assumed at least _some _of them must still be alive – subdued by Azula, but alive. She didn't envy them being trapped in a room with Azula: who knew what she'd done, or what she'd do, to make sure they didn't try to resist her?

"_And,_" Azula continued, "_because I know the way you people are, in case any of you gets any ideas about trying to get her down from there, let me just warn you: that rope she's hanging from is currently attached to a rather ingenious contraption that I put together just a little while ago. It's actually very simple – I know you probably can't see it from way down in that hole, so I'll just explain it. You see, about halfway down that crane, there's a bomb – one of mine, of course, but slightly modified. Right now the only thing keeping that bomb from going off is the pressure of a small lever hooked up to her ropes. The instant that her weight is removed, the lever will release, and the bomb will go off. I should also add that I've been placing quite a few explosives all around this ship, and once the first one goes off, I imagine there might be something of a chain reaction... all the way down to the fuel bunkers. And, well, I think we can all guess what'll happen if one of my grenades goes off in the fuel bunkers._"

"She's bluffing," Suki whispered fiercely. "I bet there aren't any bombs. She wouldn't want to blow up the ship. She's just trying to scare us."

"I'm not so sure," Iroh muttered gravely.

"_Now, I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. I'd really prefer that the ship stay in one piece until we get to the North Pole. However – desperate times call for desperate measures. And, just as a reminder, I _am _perfectly capable of setting the bombs off myself from up here with just a quick bolt of lightning. So, in case any of you decide to sacrifice your poor blind Earthbender friend for the sake of capturing me – which I doubt you will, but I didn't want to take any chances – believe me, we'll all regret it. So I'd strongly advise you to behave yourselves._"

"This – " Yonten rasped faintly, quivering both with pain and fury, "this is – _absurd! _She can't do this! She _can't _do this!"

"There must be something she didn't think of!" Ashiro growled.

"How could she have planned all this?" Yonten gasped. "How could she have done this? I thought she was mad!"

"She is," Iroh said softly, with severe frustration in his tone. "But she is still clever."

"Too clever!" Suki snarled, breathing heavily with rage. "I can't believe she was able to – ! I mean – _Ugh! _Why didn't I – ? I wish I could have taken her out before when – ! _Why doesn't she ever die?!_"

"We can't let her get away with this!" Ashiro declared. "We have to do something!"

"Once we get to the North Pole," Iroh whispered somberly, wearily, not speaking to anyone in particular – perhaps only to himself, "she won't need the ship in one piece anymore. She'll most likely destroy the ship with all of us still on it, and escape to the city, to hunt down the others."

All of them were silent, staring at Iroh, waiting – as if they all expected he might give them a solution. But he only kept his gaze turned inward for several moments, and didn't speak another word.

"How long until we get to the North Pole?" Yonten asked quietly after the long silence.

"Three, four days, perhaps," Ashiro replied, also whispering. "If the ship is moving at full speed. Which I'm sure it will be."

No one spoke again for a while. And then, even more quietly than before, Yonten finally asked, "If – if we can't – if we can't think of something – "

"We will," Suki interrupted softly, firmly. "We'll think of something."

"But if we can't," Yonten went on, closing his eyes tightly as if it hurt him to ask the question, "will... will Toph survive, hanging up in the air like that, for that long?"

They all fell silent once more, every single one of them staring up out of the hole at the distant figure of Toph dangling in the air. She was still screaming viciously and thrashing about. After several solemn moments, Suki only whispered again, "We'll think of something."

"If Azula is going to watch us," Iroh said softly, "then we ought to watch her as well. She can't possibly keep her eyes on us the entire way to the North Pole. It will simply be a matter of catching her with her guard down."

"But who knows how long that will take?" Ashiro sighed in frustration.

"Perhaps a while," Iroh admitted. "But the best thing for us to do now is to be still for a time. Be still and watch."

Several more minutes of deep, dreadful silence passed, and no one spoke.

Then at last, Yonten whispered, "Where's Sen?"

And they all glanced around at one another, and realized that none of them knew where Ursa was.

* * *

><p>When Ursa regained consciousness, the sun was already well above the horizon, and everything was still strangely silent on the ship, save for the surrounding murmurings of the ocean.<p>

Dizzily pushing herself to her feet, head throbbing, she grasped the railing and leaned against it for a moment, recovering from the terror and the pain. She reached up and touched the side of her head where Azula had hit her, and felt dried blood crusted on her skin. But the wound didn't seem to be bleeding anymore; only her skull was pounding with unbearable pain. Her stomach heaved and she vomited over the railing, and afterwards felt a little bit better.

The ship seemed completely deserted, even though it was already late morning and _someone _should have been out and about by now. Where were they? Where was everyone?

She had to find them. She had to tell them Azula was on the ship – she had to tell everyone.

Hastily, she stumbled back toward the wall, following it dizzily until she reached one of the doors that led into the interior of the ship. She reached for the handle and pulled, and pulled with all her might, but it wouldn't open. Then she saw the distorted metal around the edges of the door frame, and remembered that Azula had sealed up the doors.

Were they all shut? Was she locked out? Was everyone else locked in?

No – there was no way that simply welding the doors shut would keep all of them inside. There were other ways to get out. They had Toph. Toph would have surely ripped one of these doors to shreds by now.

Ursa continued following the wall, heading in the direction of the bow. But as soon as the wall ended and the open space of the deck unfolded before her, she noticed that same muffled screaming noise she'd thought she'd heard before – only it was louder now, closer.

She glanced up and saw the crane, the long ropes hanging from the end of it, and Toph tied up at the end of the ropes, dangling out over the ocean, kicking and screaming, muffled with a gag.

For a moment, Ursa could only gawk with horror at the sight. The poor girl seemed to be quite exhausted, but she still roared and thrashed with intermittent spurts of furious, desperate energy.

"Toph!" Ursa cried.

Toph instantly stopped screaming and kicking, and became perfectly still, listening.

"Toph, it's me – Ursa! I'm right down here! Are you all right?"

Toph sputtered something fierce and frustrated, unintelligible through the gag. But she nodded her head reluctantly after a moment.

"Do you know if the others are all right?"

Toph started to nod again, but then changed her mind and shook her head – though the head shake seemed to be more just her way of admitting that she didn't have a clue.

Ursa hesitated. "Do you – do you know where Azula is?"

For a moment, Toph didn't reply, though Ursa could see her fists clenching in the ropes. Then Toph exploded into a fierce, incomprehensible tirade of rage, thrashing about so violently that Ursa feared she was going to hurt herself.

"Stop! Stop!" Ursa shouted, already moving toward the base of the crane. "Maybe I can get you down!"

Toph screamed again at that – but her scream suddenly sounded fearful more than angry, a frantic warning to stop – and she shook her head fervently. Ursa paused, bewildered; then she spotted the small explosive device rigged up to the middle of the crane, and understood.

* * *

><p>Down at the bottom of the hole, Yonten paced impatiently, Iroh sat wearily against the wall, and Suki leaned against the wall beside him, brooding fiercely. Ashiro kept turning his eyes upward now and then, toward the bridge. No one spoke – no one had spoken for a while.<p>

A few of the soldiers approached from the corridor behind them, and the one at the front of the group saluted Ashiro somberly.

"We haven't seen the Fire Lord's mother anywhere, general," he said. "But we'll keep looking."

"And the bombs?" Suki asked anxiously.

"So far we haven't found any," said the soldier. "But we're still searching for those as well."

"If I only had my glider!" Yonten snarled suddenly. "I could have flown up to the bridge and – "

"Why _don't _you have a glider?" Suki asked, furrowing her brow at him. "Isn't that how you got off the secret Airbender turtle-island place? What happened to it?"

He looked rather ashamed, and frustrated. "I – I had to sell it," he confessed regretfully. "I didn't have any money when I first left home, and it was the only thing I had."

"Well," Suki sighed bitterly. "That's unfortunate."

"She isn't in the window anymore," Ashiro suddenly whispered in a hush.

Everyone at the bottom of the hole glanced up toward the bridge. And, indeed, Azula's shadowy figure was no longer visible in the windows.

"Maybe this is our chance," Yonten whispered. "I should try to go. It isn't far from here to that wall, and she won't be able to see me if I can just get there quickly enough. I'm the fastest one here. I could make it."

"Hold on," Iroh said sternly, "don't be rash! We should think this through – "

"There's no time to think!" Yonten retorted fiercely, and before anyone could stop him, he was already in the air, propelling himself up rapidly on a burst of wind and taking off running toward the wall, stirring up a wild gust in his wake.

And, for a hopeful instant, all remained silent, and it did look as if he'd really made it without being seen. But just as he reached the wall, pressing himself tightly up against it and safely out of view of the windows above – suddenly, a bolt of lightning burst out of the window from the bridge, arching through the air towards Toph. The ship itself trembled with the violent crack that rent the air, and the cold white electricity crackled maliciously, shattering the heavy silence. And Toph jolted and reeled and unleashed a cry of agony that caused everyone's blood to run cold.

Then a brief moment of ringing silence followed, and Azula's voice returned:

"_Strike one, Airbender._"

No one on the ship moved a muscle; no one even breathed. Toph hung in the air limply, utterly silent.

"_B__ack in the hole please. Or I'll hit her again. And if you force me to hit her a third time, it will be deadly, I promise. Now, no more tricks. Go on, get back inside. I'm going to count to three. One... two..._"

Seething with shame and horror and helplessness, Yonten hastily scrambled back to the hole and leaped in, terrified that Azula was going to strike Toph a second time. He'd never felt so cowardly or powerless in his life, and as soon as he landed lightly among the others down below, he didn't speak or look at any of them. Only walked away from them quietly, a short distance down the dark hallway, and collapsed against the wall, burying his face in his hands. And no one spoke to him quite yet, or to each other; no one remembered how to speak.

"_Now then,_" said Azula, "_I hope there won't be any more disruptions. As I said before, I'd prefer to get to the North Pole as quickly and peacefully as possible, and I'm sure all of you would like that as well. So, if you behave, I'll behave. You stay in your space, and I'll stay in mine, and no one will have to suffer anymore. Doesn't that sound much easier than all this... resistance? I certainly think so_."

* * *

><p>It all happened too fast for Ursa to process. She glimpsed Yonten across the deck, as he made his bold dash out of the hole – and then the lightning struck, arching right over her head and knocking her to the ground with its force.<p>

For that dreadful instant of ringing silence after the lightning struck Toph, Ursa could only gape up at her, certain that she was dead. But a moment later, Ursa saw her eyelids fluttering slightly, and heard her groaning feebly.

And as Azula spoke to the others, Ursa scrambled back against the wall to avoid being seen, and suddenly the entire situation became clear. Azula was up in the bridge, using Toph as a way of keeping herself safe and making sure everyone else stayed confined below.

Ursa's heart raced with panic as she realized that she was now, most likely, the only living person on the ship who was _not _trapped below – save for Toph and whoever Azula had imprisoned on the bridge with her.

Why hadn't Azula killed her before? Why had she left her alive?

No matter – she had to do something. She _had _to.

But what?

"Toph!" she called, dropping her voice to a whisper, fearful of giving herself away somehow, but hoping that Toph could still hear her. "Don't worry! You'll make it through this! We'll figure this out. Just – don't give up! I'll be back later, all right?"

Toph didn't reply. And after hesitating regretfully for a moment, Ursa turned, pressing herself carefully against the wall, and began inching in the direction of the metal staircase that led up to the bridge.

* * *

><p>Hours passed by, and nothing more happened – nothing that Toph was aware of, anyway.<p>

Arms aching, nerves trembling, muscles burning, Toph merely dangled, floating in the empty world, drained of energy and will, with nothing but the sound of the distant and indifferent ocean in her head, and the feeling of the ropes burning and pulling on her wrists, and the knowledge that Azula was somewhere – nowhere, everywhere – with the power to launch another unbearable surge of pain through her body whenever she pleased. And Toph could do nothing about it.

She didn't know how much time had passed now. There was no sense of time in a world that didn't exist. And what did it matter anyway?

What were the others doing now? She hadn't heard anything from Ursa in a long time. And nothing else seemed to have happened on the ship – otherwise, surely, Toph would have been hit with another bolt of lightning. So what were they all doing? Were they just sitting down there? Were they ever going to do something? Were they going to try to save her? Were they going to leave her up here?

What could they do?

All of Toph's brutal rage and frustration had faded now – she still hated Azula, more than she'd ever hated anyone. But the urge to tear Azula limb from limb had waned, as Toph's energy and motivation had leaked away over the course of the day. Perhaps it had been zapped away by that bolt of lightning, by the pain. Perhaps it was the loss of all concrete sense of time and space, messing with her head. Perhaps it was the numb ache in her arms, and the chill in her bones from the icy wind, and her dry throat longing for water, and her empty stomach growling for food.

More than anything, after hours of hanging there, Toph was simply feeling drained by her own steadily increasing, overwhelming, crushing sense of utter blindness and total vulnerability.

_Powerless. Helpless. Blind._

This wasn't who she was. This didn't happen to her. She wasn't helpless. She _wasn't _blind – she was strong. She could see as well as anyone, even _better _than most people a lot of the time. She took care of herself. She didn't need anyone to help her, or fuss over her, or do things for her. She always took care of herself. She was powerful. She was the greatest Earthbender in the world. She invented a brand new form of bending all on her own, when she was only _twelve_. She was practically legendary. Everyone in the world knew how powerful she was. She was intimidating and strong and fearless and...

Terrified.

Toph was terrified.

And worse than anything else, she was blind. Trapped in a world that barely existed. Blind and helpless: exactly what she'd always prided herself on _not _being. Exactly what she'd always feared to be.

Hours continued to pass, and the silence was relentless, and she could feel the light growing dim as the night approached. The air was growing colder. She was thirsty; she was hungry. She couldn't feel her arms. She didn't know where anything was. She didn't know who _she _was, now. She didn't know anything. Now and then, she tried half-heartedly to struggle against the ropes. But when that proved useless, and she gradually ceased to care at all, she stopped hoping for relief, and stopped fighting altogether, and at last broke down and gave in to feeble, defeated tears.

Then, suddenly, she was aware of something flying near her. Something small, brushing past her in the air. Before she could bring herself to wonder what it was, it landed on her shoulder, causing her to shriek slightly in surprise.

Little hand-like paws grasped her shoulder, and soft fur brushed against her face, and something chattered in her ear.

She exhaled heavily when she realized it was Momo, and forced her pounding heart to calm itself.

The lemur's tiny, cold nose sniffed around her face and neck, and small little chirps gurgled from his throat. She could feel one of his paws playing around her mouth, and scratching at the gag.

After a few minutes, Momo wriggled the gag loose – it fell down around her neck, and her mouth was finally free. Toph didn't know if Momo was actually intuitive enough to understand what was going on and was trying to help, or if he was simply curious. But either way, she sputtered and choked and felt incredibly grateful for at least the small relief of having her mouth free.

"Thanks, Momo," she gasped, and her dry voice cracked painfully in her throat.

Then, Momo's paws began feeling around her mouth again, as if he were trying to pry her lips open to examine her teeth. She spat and sputtered and shook her head, frowning.

"Momo – pfft! – stop!" she wheezed. "What are you doing?"

The lemur chattered nonsense at her, and then she felt him shoving something small and hard against her teeth. Drops of water spilled out of it, trickling over her dry lips, and she realized the hard thing was the mouth of a canteen. Almost savagely, she opened her mouth and grasped the canteen in her teeth, doing her best to tip her head back and let the cool water gush down her throat. Most of it spilled out of her mouth, and some of it went down her windpipe and caused her to choke and cough. The canteen fell and after several minutes she heard the faint splash of it hitting the ocean below, and – though she was frustrated that she couldn't have gotten more water out of it – the small gulps that she did manage to get were beautifully refreshing, and her despair subsided for that brief moment.

She knew the others had sent Momo up here to bring her water. They hadn't forgotten her. They were going to do something. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe they'd come for her soon. Overwhelmed – her eyes brimmed with tears again, and she actually smiled a bit.

Momo chirped at her once more, poking her face and playing with her hair. She chuckled hoarsely, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"Thanks, Momo," she said again, faintly, and her bare feet swayed in the chilly ocean wind.

* * *

><p><em>Geez, poor Toph. I'm a terrible person. Why do I do such awful things to my favorite characters? <em> :(


	35. Winter Solstice

_Phew! Guys... _**WE'RE HERE!** :D :D :D

_Geez, I can't believe I actually made it – I mean, that _THEY_ actually made it! The characters, I mean! Not me! I've been full of non-stop confidence this whole time... Heh... Anyway, yay, excited! Oh, and yes, I __did__ post two chapters in one day. You're welcome! _:D

_(I should add that I actually have TWO papers due this week, plus a very overwhelming thesis I ought to be working on, plus a pile of student papers that I really need to grade. Which makes me either extra awesome for posting two chapters despite everything, or extra horrible for using this story to procrastinate so egregiously). _^_^

Aang: "Hey, I've got a kinda weird question..."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "What's up?"<br>Aang: "Since it's almost time for me to come back into the story, are we gonna keep having these pointless chitchats in the Author's Notes? 'Cause I think it might be a little weird if I'm up here, but also down there... You know? I mean, how would that work, exactly?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh! I hadn't even thought of that! Yeah, I guess we will have to stop... Aw! But then who will I talk to?" :'(<br>Aang: "Hey, don't be sad! I'm sure you'll find someone else to talk to."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>sigh<em>* "Well... Maybe I'll bring Mai back from the dead so she can make snarky deadpan remarks. That could be fun. I miss Mai anyway." ^_^  
>Aang: "Yeah! There you go! No reason to be sad." :D<br>Rain&Roses: "... Mai's not as cute as you, though."  
>Aang: "Huh?"<br>Rain&Roses: "What? Nothing!" *_shifty eyes_*

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER SOLSTICE<strong>

"Are we there yet?" Ursa grumbled, leaning on the front of the saddle and staring dully at the back of Sokka's head.

"No," Sokka grumbled back.

"When will we be there?"

"Soon."

"How soon is that?"

"Pretty soon."

"Which means what, exactly?"

_"Ursa."_ Sokka turned and glared at her. "Just...! Okay?"

She stared at him. "Okay," she said slowly. "So, d'you mean like, five minutes kind of soon? Or...?"

"Ursa, stop bothering Sokka," Zuko spoke up, sighing wearily and leaning back against the side of the saddle. He had a bit of a headache, and wasn't much enjoying the chill in the air.

"I'm just asking!" she protested. "What's wrong with that?"

Tenzin, peering out into the distance, suddenly perked up and began to bounce excitedly. He reached over to his mother (who was enjoying a nice, dreamless, guilt-free sleep for once) and shoved at her arm until she woke up.

"I see it! I see it!" he cried. "Momma, wake up! We're here! We're here!"

"Mph?" Katara mumbled, yawning.

"Where? I don't see it!" Ursa shouted, shielding her eyes against the pale polar sunlight and squinting off into the distance.

Tenzin scrambled over to her, leaning on her shoulder and pointing. "There! See the big wall? Way out there! That's it! It's the North Pole! It has to be! We made it!"

Ursa looked, and Katara and Zuko crawled over to look as well. Sure enough, far away in the distance – almost invisible in the crystal-white fog that hovered over the sea below them – the great outer wall of the North Pole citadel was looming into view. And beyond the wall, the rest of the city soon emerged from the mists, rising up tier-by-tier to the Chief's Palace that crowned the top, nestled deep into the sheer icy cliffs, and surrounded by high snowy tundra.

"I see it!" Ursa declared after a second, grinning excitedly.

"We made it," Katara sighed, smiling a bit and surging with a new wave of courage and conviction at the sight of their destination.

"And with time to spare!" Sokka added cheerfully. "See? Told you I'd get you here."

"It looks just the same," Zuko remarked. "How long ago was it when we were last here? Eight years ago?"

"Everything was so different back then," Katara nodded.

"Yeah," Sokka commented a little snidely. "This time there isn't an armada of Fire Nation ships laying siege to it. That's a nice change."

"And this time I'm not sneaking in to try to capture the Avatar in some not-very-well-thought-out scheme," Zuko added, smirking quietly.

"Yeah, you weren't very smart back then," Sokka snickered. "And this time you aren't gonna beat up Katara either, I hope."

"I beat _him_ up first," Katara smiled lightheartedly, nudging Zuko with her elbow. "And I'm not afraid to do it again, if I have to."

"Um, yeah, I don't think that'll be necessary this time," Zuko chuckled.

Ursa glanced at him. "You got beat by Aunt Tara, dad? Really?"

"Well," he said slowly, eyes shifting, "only temporarily."

"Ahem," Tenzin interrupted, indignant on his mother's behalf. "She beat him up _lots _of times. Because she's the best Waterbender ever." Then he looked rather sheepish, and grinned at Zuko. "But you're a good fighter too, Zuko, so don't feel bad."

"She knocked him out in about three seconds after he ran off into the snow with Aang," Sokka chuckled. "Remember that, Zuko? Good times, huh?"

Zuko just scratched his head awkwardly.

"And then Aang insisted that we couldn't leave you there," Katara added softly, drifting away into memories that she'd almost forgotten. "He wouldn't let us leave you out there in the snow. Can you imagine – ? I mean, just think of how different it all would have been if he hadn't..."

Zuko gazed at her, suddenly solemn, and they all fell silent for a few moments, remembering. Thinking of who they'd been back then – all the decisions they'd made, both good and bad. How each decision had affected everything else, and how it all could have easily turned out so differently.

"So where's the Spirit Oasis, Momma?" Tenzin broke the silence, turning and gazing back out at the city. "Can we see it from up in the air? Will we see it when we get closer?"

"You know, I don't remember exactly where it is," she said, peering carefully out at the city too, as if she might be able to actually see it from there. "Somewhere in the back, I think. We probably won't be able to see it till we get there."

"We should head to the Chief's Palace," Sokka said. "Tell him the situation and everything. He'll help us out."

"Can we stop and get some food?" Zuko asked. "I'm starving, and I'm pretty sure we're out of everything except Fire Flakes. Which, to be honest, I'm starting to really get sick of."

"Sick of Fire Flakes!" Ursa scoffed, shaking her head. "What's wrong with you?"

Sokka asked Katara if it was all right if they stopped for some food before heading to the palace, and she simply replied that it made no difference to her, though Tenzin fidgeted impatiently at the thought of wasting any more time before going to the Oasis. But she assured him it would only take a few minutes.

They finally passed over the great outer wall of the city, soaring over the series of massive locks used to lift visiting ships in to the main canal of the city. As they flew over, they could see fur-covered Water Tribe people down on the wall and beside the locks, staring up at them, pointing and shouting various incomprehensible exclamations.

"Are they – angry?" Zuko asked, frowning. "What's their problem?"

"I don't think they're very used to people just flying right into the city," Katara replied.

"Well, too bad!" Sokka said. "We don't have time to sit outside the gate and politely knock. Besides – we're important people on an important mission. They'll forgive us."

Sokka brought Appa to land in one of the upper tiers of the city, near the Chief's Palace. Since it was not exactly an easy task to bring the bison down in the middle of the narrow, bustling streets – especially since most of the streets were busy canals rather than solid ground – he instead let Appa land on the relatively flat and empty roof of a building. A few of the people down in the lanes below ran off at the bison's sudden landing, or at least backed away nervously. But most of them seemed to simply brush it off after a moment and carry on with their usual affairs, though they still gaped at Appa and his strange passengers with wary, curious looks.

Sokka left the others in the saddle, jumping down to the street below to quickly fetch some food. Appa yawned wearily, and Tenzin and Ursa both gawked at the scenery in awe.

"This place is amazing!" Tenzin commented. "Momma, can we live here?"

Katara chuckled. "No, I don't think so, sweetie. But we can definitely come back to visit."

Several minutes later Sokka returned with a bag full of food and a very troubled look in his eyes.

"Here! Food! Eat it!" he said abruptly, tossing the bag back into the saddle and scrambling frantically back to his usual seat on Appa's head. "Let's go! Yip yip!" And he hastily flicked Appa's reigns, flicking them again more forcefully when Appa took more than half a second to respond.

"What's wrong, Sokka?" Katara asked urgently, as Appa grumbled and took off into the air again.

"Why are you acting like a crazy person?" Ursa asked.

Sokka turned and looked over his shoulder at Katara, his eyes flickering with anxiety. "Um," he stammered. "Well... All right, first – don't panic, Katara. It's all okay. But, uh... you know how the Solstice is tomorrow?"

"Yeah?" she said slowly.

"Erm – well, apparently – tomorrow's today. And today's the Solstice. As in, it's right now."

"_What?_" Katara shrieked, instantly panicking.

"_What?_" Tenzin cried as well.

"But – how's that possible?" Zuko shouted. "Are you sure?"

He nodded hastily. "I just asked. I wanted to double-check since – well, it's hard to keep track of time in the middle of nowhere, you know. I must have just miscalculated, that's all. But it's okay! It's still the afternoon – we've got almost the whole day ahead of us! And we're here! We'll just go talk to the Chief and get him to take us to the Spirit Oasis right away, and it'll all be just fine! It's gonna be fine!"

* * *

><p>"No, I'm afraid no one's allowed into the Spirit Oasis."<p>

Katara glared viciously at the smug woman that they'd found sitting in the Chief's Palace. Her name was Eska, and she was apparently some kind of assistant or councilor to Chief Arnook, as well as the only person of any kind of importance to be currently found in the main hall of the palace. She sat alone on the wide steps before the palace's great waterfall, legs crossed serenely, with the elaborate stone structure of the Chief's pillars behind her. She was also surprisingly young – possibly only a year or two older than Katara – and her expression was droll, indifferent, and rather pompous: the sort of person who believed that all the world was populated by idiots.

At first glance, Katara had been quite pleased to see a woman working in such a high position in the Chief's council. However, that small delight had quickly faded, as it soon became clear that the woman herself was intolerable. If Katara had been a Firebender, no doubt she would have been breathing flames at the moment.

"What do you mean, no one's allowed?" she cried. "Where's Chief Arnook? I want to talk to him."

"Chief Arnook is busy right now," Eska said impatiently. "He's in a very important meeting with the minor chiefs of the rural villages."

"Well, go get him!"

"I can't do that."

"Look – whatever 'important meeting' he's in right now, I _promise _you it is nowhere near as urgent as our situation! If you won't let us talk to the Chief, then just let us into the Oasis, and we'll explain it all to him later."

_"Ha!_ No," said Eska dryly. "I just told you, no one's allowed into the Spirit Oasis, unless they have the Chief's special permission. And he _never _gives people special permission to go into the Spirit Oasis. So there's no way you bunch of commoners are getting in there behind his back."

"Commoners!" Zuko and Ursa scoffed, almost in perfect unison.

But Sokka just chortled – rather fiercely – and stepped forward to look Eska squarely in the eye. "Look, lady," he said, "I don't know what kind of rock you've been living under for the past eight years or so, but we're kind of important people."

Eska rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, I'm _sure _you are."

"Ever heard of Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe? The brilliant warrior with his famous trusty boomerang?" Sokka smirked rather proudly, pulling out his boomerang quite dramatically and waving it in her face. "Yeah, that's me. And _this_... is my boomerang."

Eska stared blankly at him. "I fail to find your boomerang impressive, sir."

Sokka scowled, putting his boomerang away with deeply wounded pride. "Okay, fine!" He gestured at Katara. "Then see this girl here? This is Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. You might have heard of her? Master Waterbender? World's greatest healer? First girl in this city to be trained in Waterbending, by Master Pakku himself?"

Eska merely yawned.

"Hey! Don't yawn at me!" Sokka was growing increasingly aggravated. He leaned closer to the infuriating woman and gave her a piercing glower. "Listen! You know the Avatar? Avatar Aang? Ever heard of _him_? Yeah, well, we're kind of his closest friends! See this kid here?" He pointed at Tenzin. "He's the Avatar's _son_! Understand?"

"The Avatar didn't have a son." Eska rolled her eyes again.

"Did too!" Tenzin cried, frowning sternly. "You don't know anything, lady!"

"Thanks, Tenzin. I got this," Sokka went on, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "Okay. You know that big war that happened a while back? Well, we were all pretty key players in that whole thing. There's this little thing called 'the world' – that's right, _the world_ – familiar with that? Well, we sort of saved it. Just a little."

"Uh-huh," Eska murmured in a bored tone, as if she'd heard all this a million times before.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Sokka pointed at Zuko. "See that guy there? He's the _Fire Lord. _I repeat: THE FIRE LORD."

"Oh!" Eska said, in mock astonishment. "Yes, of course! Obviously he's the Fire Lord. That must be why he's in the North Pole right now, instead of – oh, I don't know – _back in the Fire Nation_. Ruling things."

"Hey!" Ursa protested indignantly. "He _is _the Fire Lord! And I'm the princess! Show a little respect, huh?"

"And, actually, there's a really good reason I'm not in the Fire Nation," Zuko spoke up quickly. "See, what happened was – "

"Yeah, I don't really care," Eska waved her hand dismissively, growing irritated. "People tell me stories like this all the time. Next you'll be telling me the legendary Master Pakku is your grandfather – "

"He's our _step-_grandfather_,_ actually," Sokka interrupted sharply.

"You're not getting to the Spirit Oasis," Eska proclaimed sternly, giving Sokka an icy glare. "And I'm not bothering the Chief just because you think you're more important than everyone else. I don't know what kind of rock all of _you _have been living under, but in case you haven't heard, about eight years ago someone tried to assassinate the Moon Spirit. So now no one gets into the Spirit Oasis, ever."

"But we were there!" Katara growled in frustration, shaking with fury. "We were there when all that happened! We – ! He – _he dated the Moon Spirit!_" she finally sputtered, pointing at Sokka.

Eska just snickered at that, appraising Sokka snidely with her eyes. "Right_._ Of course he did. I guess the Moon was more impressed with your boomerang than I was, huh, ponytail guy?"

Unable to bear any more of this nonsense, Katara stepped forward and grabbed Eska by the furry collar of her parka, lifting her roughly up off the steps where she sat.

"Listen to me!" Katara roared into Eska's face, and the water in the canal behind the steps rolled and rippled tempestuously in response to her fury. "I need to get to that Oasis _right now! _You know how Avatar Aang disappeared about five years ago? Did you know about that? Well, he did – he disappeared – and me and him were supposed to be together but then he was gone, and I didn't know where he was until about a month ago when I found out that he got taken into the Spirit World and had his face stolen by some evil spirit who likes to steal peoples' faces, and I don't know why but I'm the only person who can save him, and I have to do it by the Solstice or else he's gonna be gone forever, and the Solstice is today, and the only way I know how to get to the Spirit World is through that magic pond with the fish! I've got to get to that pond so I can go to the Spirit World to save him from the Face-Stealer, and if I don't do it today then he's gonna spend the rest of eternity stuck in the Spirit World without a face! _This is important! _Understand?"

The walls had all begun to shudder at Katara's furious rant, and a few pots of water in the room had burst open. Eska had abandoned her air of blasé pomposity, and was gaping at Katara now in bewilderment and mild terror.

"What?" she stammered.

"_I'm trying to save the father of my child!_" Katara bellowed. "Get it? Or do you need me to spell it out for you more clearly?"

"Yeah!" Sokka interjected, nodding firmly. "You're sort of standing in the way of true love here, lady! Who does that? And plus – look at this kid!" Taking a step back, he placed his hand around Tenzin's shoulder. "Look at him! Look at his little face! You really want him to spend the rest of his life without a father? _Do you?_"

Tenzin immediately turned his big blue eyes toward Eska and made the most pathetic, persuasively heartbreaking pouty face that he could manage.

Eska only seemed helplessly flustered and confused now. "I – I don't know – " she stammered reluctantly.

Suddenly – and thank goodness – Chief Arnook himself strode into the great hall through a side door, and his eyes lit up with surprise and delight when he recognized the visitors.

"Katara! Sokka!" he cried, coming toward them and throwing his arms wide in welcome. "What are you doing here? It's so good to see you again! – Katara, could you...? Would you mind putting down my assistant, please? Thank you."

* * *

><p>Once the situation had been explained to the Chief, he agreed to take them to the Spirit Oasis immediately, instructing Eska to postpone all his other duties for the day until he returned. On the way out of the palace, he commanded two of his best Waterbenders to come with them, to guard the entrance to the Oasis while they were there, and to provide extra help if it was needed.<p>

By the time they were on their way, the sky was already growing dark – and though Katara knew very well that it was still quite early in the afternoon, and the day was far from over – that it was perfectly normal for the sun to go down in the middle of the day during Winter Solstice in the North Pole – that there was nothing to panic about quite yet... Even still, the deceptively early night made her feel unspeakably nervous.

At last – at long last - they arrived at the wall behind the palace, and Katara instantly recognized the small round wooden door set into the stones: seemingly unremarkable, yet concealing one of the most wondrous locations in the world. Her heart skipped a beat as Chief Arnook stepped forward, reached for the little wooden door, pulled it slowly open, and turned to her with a grave smile.

"Good luck," he said softly, tilting his head solemnly.

Katara nodded back respectfully, returning his smile. "Thank you."

Then, with a deep breath, she knelt and stepped through the small circular doorway. Instantly she was greeted by a sudden wave of soothing, strangely warm air, and a beautiful tranquil fragrance filled her nostrils. She stood up straight, and there before her, across a wide lake, lay the small emerald green island, and the tiny circular pond at its center. Two bridges arched over the water to the lush island, and a great waterfall fell in the distance, its gentle rushing murmurs filling the entire enclosed area, reverberating against the sheer cliffs that surrounded the lake.

The Spirit Oasis. Just the way she remembered it.

Katara stepped forward, and behind her through the little door passed Sokka, followed by Tenzin and Ursa, with Zuko bringing up the rear. Chief Arnook's two Waterbenders took up their posts outside the door, closing it behind Zuko.

No one spoke a word; the group simply followed Katara solemnly and silently over the narrow path to the eastern bridge, and across to the island.

Katara shed her parka and dropped it carelessly on the ground, just inhaling the sweet, unearthly air for a moment. Almost subconsciously, she slid off her boots and savored the cool blades of dewy grass between her toes. As the others stepped onto the island, they all threw off their thick winter clothes as well. And Tenzin fell to the ground and rolled in the grass happily.

"What are you doing?" Ursa asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"It's just... really nice," Tenzin grinned.

It really was. Oddly, after all the chaos and fear that had chased them the entire way here, practically to the threshold of the entrance – even with the pressure of time, and the great ordeal that Katara knew still lay ahead of her – she felt utterly tranquil at that moment. Even... happy. And from the looks on everyone else's faces, they seemed to be feeling the same way.

But there was no time to be still and enjoy it. It was time for her to do what she'd come to do.

"Well," she sighed, looking back at all of them. "Here we are."

Sokka smiled encouragingly at her. "You can do it, Katara. And we'll be here waiting for you."

Katara gazed at each one of them, biting her lip. Her heart swelled a little, and she stepped forward and hugged Sokka tightly. Then Tenzin, Ursa and Zuko all gradually came and joined in the hug, until she was being crushed at the center of the pile of them. She couldn't help but choke up a bit, and the only thing she regretted was that the others – Toph, Suki, Uncle, and all of them – weren't able to be there as well.

But she told herself she'd see them all soon, when she came back. She _would _come back.

Untangling herself from their arms at last, she knelt and gathered Tenzin alone into a tight embrace for a moment, lingering with him, and he wrapped his little arms around her neck.

"Tenzin," she whispered brokenly, struggling not to shed any tears, "just in case I don't – "

"You _will_," he interrupted her firmly, squeezing her tighter.

She released him and held him at arm's length, gazing at him and brushing at the strands of dark hair around his face.

"You know how much I love you, right?" she said softly.

He smiled quietly and nodded, sniffling slightly. "Love you too."

"Don't ever forget that, okay?"

"Okay."

She kissed his forehead, and then rose to her feet, turning towards the pond.

"Right," she sighed. "This is it."

She stepped forward to the edge of the pond, glancing down at the glassy water that rippled gently against the shore. The black and white Koi fish, Tui and La, swam serenely in their perpetual circle beneath the surface of the water, with the moon's slightly distorted reflection hovering above them.

Everyone else gathered around her in something of a semicircle, watching her intently.

Katara stared blankly at the water. Blinking. Not yet moving.

"Yep. This is it," she said slowly, beginning to frown. "... Yep."

She continued staring at the water for several moments, while they all watched her, waiting for her to do something. She blushed, feeling all of their eyes on her, and at last glanced over her shoulder at them with a confounded expression on her face.

"Um," she stammered awkwardly. "So... what should I do?"

They all gaped blankly at her for a short pause.

Then Tenzin said timidly, "Uh, shouldn't you just... jump in?"

"Yeah, that's sort of how I was picturing it," Sokka agreed, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah," she frowned uneasily. "I was, too. But – now that I'm actually here, that seems kind of... dumb. I mean, I can _see _the bottom of the pond right now. I don't know why jumping in would do anything."

Zuko scratched his head. "Yeah, it does seem a little too simple, doesn't it?"

Katara blew confusedly at her hair loopies, and they all glanced back and forth at one another uneasily. The realization that none of them had actually thought about what to do once they got here was a rather embarrassing one, and Katara herself felt more than a little mortified. Somehow she'd just assumed that all she had to do was _get _here, and then things would just... _happen_.

"Well," Ursa finally spoke up, "what would Avatar Aang do?"

Tenzin nodded fervently at that, eyes alight. "Yeah, Momma, what would daddy do?"

Katara furrowed her brow and rubbed her neck uneasily. "Um. _Meditate_."

Sokka snorted a bit.

"I guess you could try that?" Zuko shrugged.

"She's not the Avatar, genius," Sokka rolled his eyes. "I don't think it would work quite the same way."

"It's just a suggestion!" Zuko retorted defensively. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"Hm." Sokka frowned, pondering. "Give me a second..."

"You could try it, Aunt Tara," Ursa suggested after a pause. "You never know."

Katara made an uncomfortable face. "Well, but – I'm not really... I mean, I'm not really in touch with the Spirit World like Aang was. I don't think it would do any good right now."

"Why don't you just _try_ jumping in the water? Maybe something will happen." Tenzin suggested.

"Yeah," Zuko agreed. "It couldn't hurt, Katara."

Katara glanced into the pond, and at the circling Koi fish. "Yeah, I guess," she finally said, nodding. "I don't know what else to do."

Briefly, she took one last look back at each of them, just trying to embed the image of that moment, of each of their faces as they stood around the Oasis, permanently in her memory. The idea that this might be the last time she ever saw any of them – _No_. The thought was there, lurking somewhere in the back of her mind, but she wouldn't allow it to fully rise to the surface. Not now. She would never go at all if she did.

"Well," she whispered, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. "Here I go."

Turning back to the pond, she braced herself for a moment, closed her eyes, and leaped.

There was a loud splash.

The Koi fish scattered momentarily.

And Katara was just standing there, eyes shut tight and teeth clenched, in the middle of the pond. Only about knee-deep in water, soaking wet, and – most importantly – still very much _there_.

After a pause, she opened her eyes and looked down, then looked back at everyone. Flummoxed.

"Nothing happened," Zuko finally stated.

Katara rolled her eyes. "No, really? Thanks, Zuko. What would I do without you?"

Sokka and Ursa both snickered a bit at that, while Zuko just glared wearily. Everyone kept their eyes fixed on Katara as she waded around a few paces, brushed her fingers through the water's surface pensively, and then looked back at them all again with a frustrated growl.

"Well," she snapped. "This is pretty annoying. Apparently we came all this way so I could go swimming."

"No, no, come on!" Tenzin interrupted anxiously. "There's gotta be something! We just haven't figured it out yet – "

"Yeah," Sokka agreed. "There's no reason to give up. We just need to... think about our options here."

"But there's no time to think, Sokka!" Katara cried, beginning to panic a little. "The Solstice is more than halfway over already! I need to get there _now!_" She hadn't anticipated the possibility that she might come so far, only to reach this point in the journey and get _stuck_. The clock was ticking; the deadline looming closer and closer by the second. And here she was, so close, yet completely stumped. She felt like screaming.

"Don't worry, Momma!" Tenzin insisted. "We'll figure it out!"

"_HEY PRINCESS YUE!_" Sokka suddenly bellowed, cupping his hands over his mouth and shouting to the sky, in the general direction of the moon, which had risen in full by now. "_It's me, Sokka! I don't know if you can hear me up there, but a little Moon Spirit magic would be really, really useful right now!_"

"Sokka," Katara sighed. "I really don't think that's going to – "

"_Also, I really hope you're doing well, and that everything's nice up there in the sky!_" he kept going, ignoring her. "_You're looking beautifully, uh... gibbous, tonight!_"

Zuko raised his eyebrow at him. "Your old girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Sokka looked rather sheepish. "I thought she might appreciate a little compliment."

"Uncle Sokka," Tenzin said flatly. "You're a strange man."

"Agreed," Ursa nodded.

"Hey!" Katara shouted, throwing her arms in the air in aggravation. "Could we _focus _for a second! We've still got a slight problem here! I've got a very limited amount of time to figure this out, and I don't think that Sokka flirting with the Moon is gonna help!"

"Hey!" Sokka crossed his arms indignantly. "No need to get snippy now, Katara."

"Maybe," Tenzin said carefully, "maybe you should just... wait? I mean, maybe if we're all just quiet for a while, something will happen."

"But I can't stand here in the water forever!" Katara exclaimed, her voice sharp with anxiety. "We're already short on time as it is, and if this isn't what I'm supposed to do, then I need to figure out what I _am _supposed to do, fast!"

"What if – " Zuko's eyes lit up with sudden alarm – "What if this is wrong? I mean, all of this? What if we weren't even supposed to come here at all?"

Katara hid her face in her hands for a moment and smothered a scream.

"No!" she shook her head fiercely, heart racing with panic. "_No! _But – but what else would it be? I don't know what else it would be, Zuko! But – I don't know. _I don't know_. Maybe – "

Then, without warning, Katara was gone. Slipped straight downward, into the pond, vanishing beneath the glassy surface of the water with only a small splash.

The four of them all squealed in surprise and fright. But once the shock had passed, Ursa glanced at the three boys with a small smirk on her face.

"Heh." She shook her head. "Well, that was just embarrassing."

For a few moments, they all stared at the surface of the strange pond in awe. The ripples in the water settled quietly back into tranquil stillness, gently erasing the last evidence that Katara had ever been there at all.

"I really hope she doesn't come back as a giant rampaging Koi monster," Sokka suddenly remarked.

Zuko gaped at him in alarm. "_Why would you say that?!_"

But Tenzin's eyes lit up with sudden excitement. "Oh my gosh! That would be _amazing!_"

And Ursa just stared at Sokka, tilting her head in genuine confusion. "But, how could that possibly happen? I don't get it."

Sokka just gave her a weary frown. "Look, squirt... Weird stuff happens to us, okay? You just never know about these things."

* * *

><p>One moment, Katara had been standing in the middle of the pond, in the middle of the Spirit Oasis, frantically wracking her brain for a way to get into the Spirit World. The next instant, she found herself elsewhere, dizzy and disoriented: standing on a small grassy hillock somewhere in a surreal swamp, surrounded by tall, twisted trees and ragged dangling moss and buzzing, shimmering insects the like of which she'd never seen before in her life. A graceful arch stood behind her, almost identical to the stone arch in the Spirit Oasis. But the light here was warm and golden everywhere, in a startling contrast to the cold white moonlight of the North Pole.<p>

The Spirit World. She was here. She'd made it. It had to be.

She had no idea what had happened, or how she'd got here. But that didn't matter. She was here – _finally_. At once she took off into the swamp, wading through the shallow golden water. She ran for quite a distance before she realized she had no idea where she was going or what she ought to be doing.

"Um," she stammered helplessly, shouting into the tranquil open air. "Hello! I'm here! Could – could someone... Is anyone here?"

The eerie swamp was swarming with life, but there was no reply to her question. So she kept walking, and at last she spotted a steep hill with three thick stones at the top, one set horizontally across the other two, all overgrown with thick, tangled roots. A small figured appeared to be sitting under the stones, and as Katara approached, she saw it was an ancient baboon-like creature, grim and solemn, seated in a meditating position with his eyes closed and humming serenely. He wore brown robes and a necklace of pale flowers.

Katara felt a little hesitant to interrupt the spirit in his meditation, but since there was no one else around, she didn't know what else to do.

"Excuse me?" she said timidly, approaching the old baboon. "Could you help me? I'm looking for – "

He opened his eyes briefly, fixing her with an impatient glare, and then shut his eyes again, tighter, humming more loudly and emphatically to drown out the sound of her voice.

Though he clearly didn't want to be disturbed, Katara went on resolutely. "Please – I've never been here before, but I'm – I'm trying to save Avatar Aang. The Face-Stealer took his face, and – Do you know where I should – ?"

"Go away," said the spirit, squinting irritably at her out of one of his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Katara blinked, taken aback.

"Go away."

"Well, there's no need to be rude!"

"_Omm-m-m-m-m-m-m-m!_" The ill-mannered old spirit shut his eyes tight again and went back to his meditation, forcefully ignoring her.

Scowling, Katara opened her mouth to try speaking to him again, but then decided it wasn't worth the effort. He obviously wasn't interested in helping her. So, discouraged and bewildered, she turned away and trudged back into the swamp, wandering around for several minutes – watching the strange glowing insects that flitted around her, glimpsing other eerie bird-like creatures soaring in the distance, and wondering what on earth she was supposed to do now.

Suddenly, as she wandered, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped in surprise and turned.

Before her stood a beautiful girl in flowing robes, with long, pure-white hair. She smiled brightly at Katara.

"Yue!" Katara gasped, truly astonished. The last time she'd seen the former Water Tribe princess – eight years before – it had been in the Spirit Oasis, during the Siege of the North, when the sky had been darkened by the death of the moon. And Yue's body had lain lifeless in Sokka's arms, vanishing quietly while her spirit ascended into the sky. It was – it was quite a shock to see her again, but she looked exactly the same as Katara remembered.

"Katara," Yue said softly, opening her arms and gathering Katara into a joyful embrace. "You made it! I'm so glad you're here. What took you so long? Come with me – hurry! We have a lot to do, and there isn't very much time left!"

* * *

><p><em>Whee-hee! <em>:D :D :D


	36. The Garden of Faceless Spirits

_Oh my gosh, I'm so excited to be at this part of the story! *Squee!* __Sorry it took a me a little longer than usual to post t__his one; it's a __huge__ chapter – and I'm not just talking about its obscene length, lol. It's been eagerly waiting to be written for a long time, and I wanted to make sure it was exactly right. Hope you guys like it. _^_^

_Also, everyone, seriously, I know I say this all the time, but thank you all __so__ much for the reviews! (200! W00t!) You have no idea how happy you make me. (Recent Guest reviewer who really liked Appa's chapter – your review got me all choked up! Really, it did. I wanted to thank you but I couldn't message you, so I'm doing it here, haha). This story is so long and complicated that, even though I love it dearly, I probably would have given up on it long ago if not for all the feedback. So, thanks again, everyone! _:D

Mai: "Oh, look. I'm here now."  
>Aang: "Oh hi, Mai." :)<br>Mai: "Hey... So, care to explain what I'm doing here?"  
>Aang: "Well, see, I'm gonna be back in the story soon, so you've got to stay up here and chat with the author, since I guess she's lonely or something. I dunno. But she's got custard tarts!" ^_^<br>Mai: "Oh, joy. And I take it _I'm _not going to ever come back into the story, right, Miss Author?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>awkward pause<em>* "Well, you kinda died. Like, way back. So... no. Sorry." :(  
>Mai: "Uh-huh. I see how it is. So Baldy here gets to come back to life, but poor gloomy Mai is doomed to spend the rest of the story stuck up here in the boring Author's Notes making pointless conversation with some lonely writer who probably spends way too much of her free time writing fanfiction. I can barely contain my enthusiasm right now." -_-<br>Rain&Roses: "Aw!" *_hugs Mai_* "I'm so glad you're here, Mai!"  
>Mai: "Please don't touch me."<br>Rain&Roses: " 'Kay." :D

* * *

><p><strong>THE GARDEN OF FACELESS SPIRITS<strong>

"We have to hurry – there isn't much time!" Yue said again, taking hold of Katara's hand. Her skin was startlingly white against Katara's darker flesh, and Katara couldn't help but stare for a moment at the fingers that were grasping hers. She was still recovering from the shock of just seeing Yue again, in the flesh (so to speak), in all her vivid luminescence – her "lunar goodness," as Sokka might have said. She was so bright and elegant, Katara felt almost plain and dirty in comparison.

"Oh – okay," Katara gasped powerlessly, as Yue began to lead her swiftly away. "Where are we going? Where's Aang? Are we – we're not going to see the Face-Stealer now, are we?" Her stomach suddenly boiled with panic. Were they going right now? Right this second? She knew there wasn't much time, but she wasn't ready! Not yet – she needed to – she needed to prepare herself somehow first! What was she going to do when she got there?

But Yue glanced back at her, peering over her bare white shoulder, and shook her head gently. "No, you aren't ready yet," she replied, to Katara's immense relief. "But soon," she added. "As soon as possible." Then, suddenly, her vibrant blue eyes smiled a bit, and she looked slightly abashed, as if she'd forgotten her manners. "How are you, by the way? It's so nice to see you again."

Katara just gawked at her dumbly. It suddenly hit her how entirely disoriented she felt, by _everything_ – by the Spirit World itself, by her own sense of ignorant helplessness, by Yue's startling presence, by the strange feeling of Yue clutching her hand as she led her through the otherworldly scenery, and by the unsettling casualness of Yue's question, as if they were merely two old friends running into one another by chance on a perfectly ordinary day back in the normal world.

"I'm..." Then Katara took a moment to actually think about the question. "Well, I've been better."

Yue gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. But I completely understand." Then she suddenly beamed gently. "How's Sokka?"

"Uh, he's... fine?"

"Just fine?"

"Well, he's... I mean, yeah. He's great. Still just... Sokka."

Yue laughed softly, glowing. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

"How – how are you?" The question stumbled feebly and confusedly out of her mouth.

"Oh, I'm doing very well. Thanks."

Katara looked around and saw that the tangled golden swamp she'd arrived in was now giving way to a thick wood, densely filled with tall, twisted trees; the ground beneath her feet became more solid as they went, and it soon was overtaken with gnarled roots and heavy mosses. She found herself wondering if Aang had ever been in this place. Had he seen these trees? Had he walked on this ground, during any of his journeys into the Spirit World? The idea made her a little happy – But maybe, she thought, the Spirit World was in a constant state of flux, and nothing was ever the same from one journey to the next. Not even this forest, though it looked like it had existed forever. Then, for some reason, Katara suddenly became conscious that she was barefoot. She'd left her boots behind in the Spirit Oasis. Was that okay? Yue was barefoot too, so perhaps it didn't matter. But then again, Yue seemed to float more than walk.

Her clothes were still wet from the Spirit Oasis pool and the swamp, so, while trotting hastily after Yue, she tried to Waterbend them dry. But when she waved her hand, nothing happened.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to Waterbend while you're here, Katara," Yue said, looking back at her once again over her shoulder as they ran through the forest. "But don't worry. You shouldn't need to."

"Oh – all right," Katara stammered, feeling more overwhelmed by her own ignorance with every step. Finally, she asked again, rather shyly, "Um, so... Where are we going? What are we doing now? Where's – where's Aang? Can I see him?" Her heart raced eagerly and frantically.

"Oh, Aang is..." Yue hesitated for a brief moment, as if she feared to upset Katara by saying too much – though her hesitation really only succeeding in making Katara more anxious. "He's – he's somewhere safe, don't worry. But not around here. We'll get there soon, though. It'll all be explained. But... Well, we have a lot to do. There's a lot you need to know, before you're ready. I wish you could have gotten here sooner."

"I'm sorry," Katara said, blushing with shame.

"No – it's all right," Yue said hastily, giving Katara another encouraging smile. "There's still enough time, I think."

"You _think_?"

"There is," she quickly corrected herself. "But we have to hurry. We have to find Avatar Kuruk. He's the first one you need to speak to."

"Avatar Kuruk?" Katara repeated the name blankly, frowning to herself, trying to recall if she'd heard of him before: which one was he? How long before Aang's time? She couldn't remember whether she knew anything about him or not. Her mind knotted with questions, mostly of the one-syllable variety: "Who?... First?... Why?"

But Yue chose to only respond to the middle question. "Yes – he's the first one. We've got three stops to make before you're ready to see Koh. Kuruk is the first." Then she said yet again, "Don't worry, Katara. Everything will be clear very soon."

* * *

><p>"What do you think's going on down there?" Zuko asked, staring into the pond. He was sitting on the bank, legs crossed, watching the Koi fish swim in their endless circles.<p>

Sokka sat beside him, also gazing into the pond, fiddling restlessly with his boomerang. "I dunno," he sighed.

Tenzin and Ursa were sprawled out in the grass nearby, playing some mindless game that involved quick reflexes and slapping one another's hands. Sokka scratched his head uneasily. It couldn't have been more than half an hour now since Katara had vanished, yet the time was passing with such unbearable slowness that it felt more like several hours. Several agonizing hours. The dark afternoon rolled on in lethargic, uneventful silence, and Sokka tried his hardest not to imagine that Katara was getting her face stolen – possibly right at that very moment. He distracted himself with trying to estimate the time: not an easy task, since it was already dark as night and would stay that way for quite a while.

Zuko, also, was struggling desperately not to think about the fact that Katara might be confronting the Face-Stealer even as they spoke. He wondered how long it would be before she came back – that is, of course, if she _did _come back (but he wasn't thinking about that). How long would they have to sit here waiting for her? What if it was days, or weeks?

At what point would they have to stop waiting?

No – he wasn't thinking about that.

The children, however, seemed entirely unconcerned at the moment. _Seemed_ – that was the crucial word. Zuko knew they probably just didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation, even if they understood it rationally. Or maybe they just weren't willing to fully grasp the gravity of it. Or, perhaps, they were simply unable, or unwilling, to dwell on worst-case scenarios the way he and Sokka were. Perhaps they simply had less tolerance for wallowing in worry, less endurance.

Whatever the actual case was, Zuko had no intention of dragging the two of them into their serious grown-up brooding, and neither did Sokka. Let them play silly games to pass the time; at least the time was passing more painlessly for them than it was for the adults.

"Ow!" Tenzin cried, as Ursa slapped his hands before he could pull them away. "Not so hard!"

"Don't be a baby," she scoffed. "All right, your turn now."

Sokka glanced sidelong at Zuko, and whistled rather awkwardly.

"So," he said, very slowly and carefully. "Is this... is this weird for you?"

"What?" Zuko murmured, looking at him.

"_This_," Sokka waved his hand vaguely. "All of this. This whole situation. With Katara, gone – you know, to – to bring back Aang and all, after you and her... had all that... stuff. You know." Sokka frowned, and felt his face flushing with discomfort; it wasn't the sort of thing he could just ignore, and yet now he wished he hadn't brought it up. But he glanced at Zuko again. "Is it weird?"

"A little bit, yeah," Zuko admitted after a moment, sighing heavily. He tore his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But I'm trying not to think about it too much. It's not really important right now."

"Yeah," Sokka murmured, also sighing, and shuffling his feet uncomfortably in the grass. "Sorry about – all that stuff. I mean, I'm sorry it had to be like this, Zuko. Things didn't really turn out... _ideal,_ did they?"

"I'll be fine." Zuko hesitated, uneasy with the knowledge that Sokka felt sorry for him, because of Katara. He glanced at Sokka curiously, wondering what had suddenly made him bring this up. Was it just the need to talk about something, to pass the time? Was it the fact that they were the only two adults around at the moment, and Sokka figured now was as good a time as any to air the subject out? Perhaps Sokka was thinking about his old girlfriend who'd turned into the moon. That definitely hadn't turned out ideal for _him_; maybe the thought of her made him feel more empathetic than usual.

"Is this weird for you?" Zuko finally asked him, feeling quite embarrassed about the whole thing.

"Is what weird?"

"Just – sitting here, with me, for who knows how long, waiting for her to come back. I mean, waiting with _me_ – knowing about... me and her, and everything." He paused, also flushing awkwardly. "I guess I mean, is it weird for you that I'm here?"

Sokka gazed straight ahead pensively, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's pretty weird," he said, first reluctantly, and then more decisively. "Definitely – yeah, definitely really weird."

Zuko stared sheepishly at the ground. "Sorry."

"Nah," Sokka shrugged, also dropping his eyes to the ground. "Don't be sorry. It's not like either of us could have controlled all this, you know."

Zuko didn't say anything more to Sokka, and Sokka had nothing else to say either. But their silence was thick with tangible regret, and anxiety.

"Haha!" Tenzin cried in triumph behind them, after giving Ursa's hands a slap sharp enough to reverberate around the Oasis.

"_Ow!_" Ursa growled. "Geez, monkey! Calm down!"

"Serves you right!" Tenzin snickered. "Okay, your turn again."

* * *

><p>Katara had no idea how she was keeping pace with Yue: it felt as if they were moving at a remarkable speed through the trees, and Yue's feet didn't even seem to be touching the ground. Katara wasn't entirely sure that her own feet were touching the ground, either. Suddenly, a horrible suspicion came over her. Suppose this was all just another of her dreams? Suppose she hadn't actually made it to the Spirit World at all, and Yue wasn't really there, and as soon as she found Aang he'd just disappear again and she'd wake up to realize that none of it was real after all? The idea crept into her blood and made her heart feel sick and shaky.<p>

But before she could gather the courage to ask Yue if any of this was actually happening, she noticed that the trees were beginning to thin out around them, and the forest was passing into a desolate grayish moorland – its dead color contrasting strangely with the golden light – littered with bony, twisted shrubs and massive, jagged black stones that seemed to hover in the air. The landscape gave the impression of utter flatness, and yet it somewhat rolled – swayed and meandered – disappearing into golden mist in every direction. But Katara thought she saw the phantom-like shadows of even larger black stones hovering far away, floating in the mist – some as large as mansions, or even mountains. And among the floating boulders, almost so far off they were invisible, the shapes of fluttering bird-like creatures moved in and out of sight through the fog.

Yue kept going forward through the eerie moorland, dragging Katara along hurriedly, and she didn't slow her stride in the slightest. Not even when they ran straight past a person – an old bare-headed, white-bearded Airbender – lying perfectly still, eyes closed, in the gray grass.

"Who was that?" Katara cried, alarmed, straining to look over her shoulder back at the man, as an uncanny chill crawled up her spine. But Yue pulled her on, and soon the Airbender had dissolved out of sight into the mist behind them.

"Who was who?" Yue asked, sounding entirely unconcerned.

But Katara didn't have a chance to answer before they were passing by another person lying on the ground: this time, a dark-skinned old woman, with braided white hair and thick fur clothes that Katara recognized as belonging to a very ancient Southern Water Tribe style. Near the woman, a little further away in the grass, was yet another person, another older man – and his red robes reminded Katara of the Fire Sages' uniforms. And as they ran further on, Katara began to spot more and more of them: people of every race, scattered about the landscape, all lying completely still on the ground.

"Yue, what is this?" she shouted, her voice wavering slightly as a sickening dread churned in her bowels. "Who are all these –? Wait a minute, is that –? Stop!"

"Katara, we have to hurry!" Yue protested, but Katara pulled her hand away from hers, trotting to a halt and staring, transfixed, at one of the people lying on the ground far away from them. Despite the distance and the mist, Katara saw clearly that it was a woman – a very familiar woman – with a long, solemn face covered in thick white makeup: the tallest woman she'd ever seen, with the largest feet.

Something in Katara's mind crackled and broke a little bit.

"Is that – ? Yue, that's not _Kyoshi_, is it?" she sputtered, pointing at the great Avatar with a trembling finger, and staring wide-eyed, like a helpless child, as the blood drained from her face. "It can't actually be her, right? It's not! It's some kind of...?" The words _trick, optical illusion, hallucination, _all lurked at the borders of her mouth, but she forgot how to say any of them.

Yue sighed unhappily, as if she'd hoped they could have passed through this place without Katara recognizing any of the people on the ground, or even noticing them at all. "Yes, I'm afraid it is her, Katara," she said softly. "Avatar Kyoshi."

"What's...? And that's Avatar Roku!" Katara exclaimed, suddenly spotting the old Firebender lying on the ground a good distance away from Kyoshi, his form almost invisible in the golden mists.

Yue sighed again. "That's right," she said. "And somewhere over in that direction is Avatar Yangchen, and – "

Katara gaped at her in distress. "Why are – ? Are they _all _Aang's past lives?"

Yue nodded sadly. "All of them are past Avatars, yes."

"What's wrong with them? Are they okay? Why are they all just lying around like this? What happened?"

"Well," Yue said reluctantly, grimacing a bit. "There's nothing... _seriously_ wrong with them. They're just, um, resting. That's – that's mostly what they've done for the past five years or so. Rested."

Katara just stared at her blankly, until Yue conceded to explain more.

"See – they're all still connected to Aang, through the Avatar spirit," she said, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of Kyoshi. "And so, ever since Aang's face was taken – mostly because of the, um... the unique condition he's in right now – they've all been very weak. But, don't worry. Other than that, they're fine. They're just sleeping. They're usually sleeping nowadays. All of them. That's how it's been."

With an expression of weary sorrow, Yue let her eyes wander around at the many slumbering Avatars. And Katara only gawked at the sleeping figure of Kyoshi, fascinated and appalled by her especially, more than all the others; even if they were all just sleeping and nothing more, the entire spectacle stirred up a murky kind of sickness within her. Yue soon took her hand again and began to lead her off once more, this time at a slower pace, while Katara continued to stare in helpless, horrified awe.

"Avatar Kuruk should be around here somewhere," Yue said, more to herself than to Katara.

They continued walking through the bleak, spectral moorlands, passing by hovering boulders and sleeping Avatars. At last, Yue stopped walking, and Katara came to a stumbling halt behind her; they'd arrived at the crest of a low hill, which fell from their feet into a small, perfectly round basin. At the center of the basin was a smaller, rounder pond – the water so absolutely still that it looked like golden glass beneath the misty twilit sky – and two large jet-black stones were set up like pillars beside the pond. And beside one of those thick stones, there lay another sleeping Avatar: a man, broad and rough, dark-skinned and bearded and covered in a bearskin pelt. A crude spear lay in the grass beside him.

"That's him," Yue said softly. "Avatar Kuruk. He was the Water Tribe Avatar who lived three lifetimes before Aang – "

"The one before Kyoshi?"

Yue nodded, giving Katara a solemn look. "He's been waiting for you. They all have – but him especially. Come on, Katara." And so saying, Yue led Katara slowly down the hill, around the edge of the little pond to the place where Avatar Kuruk was sleeping.

Releasing Katara's hand, Yue stepped forward and knelt beside Kuruk. She placed her pale white hand on his shoulder and stirred him gently. And Katara, feeling strangely uncertain and self-conscious, held back, watching curiously. It was surreal, in that golden light, in that desolate place, to see shining white Yue beside the rough Water Tribe man and his spear. Katara found herself doubting that she was actually seeing it. And, for some reason, she was seized all at once with a wild impulse to stop Yue from waking him – a sudden mad, bewildering feeling that, perhaps, all of this was actually _his _dream, instead of her own, and it would all end once he awoke.

But Avatar Kuruk's eyes opened slowly, and nothing remarkable or disastrous happened; he stared at Yue, and she seemed to whisper something to him that Katara couldn't hear. At once, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, instinctively reaching for his spear and blinking his eyes heavily. Then Yue straightened up herself, and waved her hand at Katara as a signal to come forward. Katara did come, reluctantly, feeling childish and out of place; and, at an encouraging smile and gesture from Yue, she sat down on the ground facing Avatar Kuruk, while Yue remained standing beside her.

"So you're here at last," Kuruk murmured, without even looking at her; his eyes were closed, his head tilted drowsily toward the ground, as if he was going to drift off to sleep again at any moment.

Katara wondered how he knew her already, but she was surprisingly unsurprised by the fact that he did. Possibly because she still couldn't shake the awful feeling that this was just another dream. It felt so inevitable. But why had he been expecting her? And what did he have to do with Aang's situation, or the Face-Stealer? She didn't know – she felt like she didn't know anything at all – but all she could do was accept it.

"Yes, I'm – I'm here," she said slowly, doubtfully. "You were waiting for me?"

He finally opened his eyes and looked up at her then, and she saw that his face was worn with weary grief, and his blue eyes flickered with something unsettling behind their distant lethargy – something bitter and savage and slightly unbalanced. A great swell of pity came over her suddenly, though she wasn't sure exactly why.

"You _are_ the one, aren't you?" he asked, suddenly staring at her very hard, as if something important were hidden in her face – much the same way people sometimes examined her features trying to find a resemblance between herself and her mother, or her father, or Gran Gran.

The way he stared at her made her feel very strange, and his question only made her feel stranger. "Um – I guess I...? What do you mean?"

"Avatar Aang's love," he said bluntly. "That _is _you, isn't it?"

Katara blushed for some reason, and stammered awkwardly, "Well, I, um... Yes? I mean, I – I... I mean, yes. Me." It wasn't the sort of question she'd ever expected to be asked – at least, not phrased in quite that way – and it caught her off guard.

Kuruk scrutinized her for a second longer, then glanced up at Yue, as if for confirmation. Yue nodded her head slightly. He turned back to Katara, and seemed to suddenly realize that his spear was still in his hand; he set it down between them on the ground, the sharpened head pointing in the direction of the pond.

"It's good to meet you," he said slowly, yawning; then he forced himself to sit up straighter, and placed his large, rough hands on his knees. "I am Avatar Kuruk. You'll have to pardon my drowsiness, Katara – your name is Katara?"

It seemed to be a question, yet his inflection made it sound more like a declaration – like a fact he'd only just realized. Again, Katara was caught off guard, and she stuttered rather idiotically, "Uh – yes, that's... correct?" – as if she wasn't sure of her own name, herself.

"Katara," he repeated her name thoughtfully, bowing his head forward slightly; she couldn't tell if it was a gesture of respect, or if he was nodding off again. "Forgive me for my... what did I – ? _D__rowsiness_, that was the word. Yes. Hrm – feel free to give me a little nudge if I drift off from time to time, please. It's been hard to do anything, these past five years."

"Uh... a-all right?"

Then he shook himself, and fixed his eyes on her again, squinting at her intently, unblinking, as if he still couldn't figure out something about her, though he was trying very hard. _"Katara,"_ he said again, with curious emphasis. "From the Southern or Northern Water Tribe?"

"Oh, the... South. Southern."

"Ah." And for the first time, he almost seemed to smile the tiniest bit. His eyes gleamed distantly, and Katara got the feeling that his mind had suddenly wandered somewhere far away. After a long pause, he blinked and shook his head, and said quietly, "I'm sorry. I was... You remind me a little of someone. Though I guess I shouldn't be that surprised... But – I'm sorry. We need to get on with business. Time is of the essence right now. You'll have to face Koh very, very soon."

"Right," Katara sighed, only feeling increasingly uncomfortable and useless. "About that... So, what exactly am I supposed to do? I mean, this is all really new to me. Everything here. I'm not sure what I'm doing at all. But – I take it you must know something I need to know, about the Face-Stealer, right? Or else why would you need to talk to me?"

He nodded slowly, and a dark, severe look clouded his eyes – that unbalanced bitterness she'd noticed before, stirring up into a storm. "Yes," he growled. "I know a great deal about Koh. I've hunted Koh for nearly five hundred years."

She gaped at him, astonished. "Five hundre...? For so long? Why?"

For a long while, he was silent – though this time, he wasn't falling asleep again. He was seething with rage. He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw, and seemed to be forcing himself through some terrible pain: so terrible he couldn't even speak.

And Katara hesitated, beginning to guess what it was. The sudden surge of pity came over her again, this time deepened by sorrowful sympathy. "He took the face of someone you loved, didn't he?"

"The love of my life," he replied bitterly. "Ummi. He stole her on the day of our wedding, right before my eyes. Dragged her into the pond of the Spirit Oasis, and took her face."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, wishing she had something better to say.

Kuruk opened his eyes again, and stared at her intently. "All I've done since that day is hunt Koh, trying to save her. But I've never been able to." He paused, blinking heavily, and inhaled deeply. "So, believe me, Katara. I can imagine better than anyone what you've gone through since Koh stole Aang's face. I've gone through it myself, for five hundred years."

"Five hundred years," she repeated again, in a daze, almost physically feeling the hope drain out of her. "And you never caught him in all that time?"

"I wasn't trying to _catch _him."

"Oh – right. I know. I – I meant that." Katara felt rather foolish, though she didn't think she'd actually done anything particularly foolish. Not yet, at least.

Kuruk blinked again, and for a second he seemed to be drifting off once more. Yue stepped forward and touched his shoulder, and he stirred himself, and pierced Katara intently with his eyes.

"What do you know about the Face-Stealer, Katara?"

"Well," she said slowly, hoping that she hadn't been misinformed, for fear of seeming more foolish. "He's... he's got the body of a giant centipede, right? And a white mask – sometimes. And he's cold and heartless, and doesn't make exceptions for anyone."

"Yes. And when you see him, you must be very careful not to – "

"Right, right. I can't show any emotion," she said quickly, nodding. "Or else he'll steal my face."

Kuruk nodded as well. "Good. So at least you know that much. That's extremely important, Katara – even the slightest facial expression in Koh's presence, if he catches it, is an invitation for him to take your face. You must be in complete control of yourself at all times. And he'll do all in his power to make you slip up: he'll try to scare you, startle you, make you angry, anything. He'll probably use Aang's face against you, once he figures out who you are and why you've come here."

Katara swallowed hard. Somehow, she hadn't even thought about that – the fact that she'd likely have to remain completely expressionless, while Koh teased her with Aang's face, trying to provoke her. The idea of it nearly crushed her. Could it even be done? She doubted her ability to control herself in that situation. But she'd have to. She had no choice.

"So, um," she began again after a moment, voice trembling slightly, "could you tell me something? Is it – is it also true that Koh's never given back any of the faces he's stolen?"

Kuruk's eyes churned with grief and regret.

"Yes, it's true," he replied somberly. "As far as I'm aware, Koh's never willingly given up a face that he's taken. But there were two... Two that he lost. Only two that I know of, at least."

Surprised, she stared at him. "Lost?"

"One, he was cheated out of. The other, he destroyed."

"He _destroyed _someone's face?" Katara cried, aghast. "What – I mean, _why_? How? What does that mean? What happened to the person? And – wait, did you say he was _cheated _out of the other one? How's that possible? Who did it? How did that happen? Do you know how to – ? Do you know how it happened?" She felt suddenly rather excited by this revelation: if it had been done once, maybe it could be done again.

"It's a long story, and a tragic one," Kuruk said slowly, struggling not to yawn. "I unfortunately don't know all the details, but I'll tell you what I do know... You ought to know anyway, since it bears some connection to you and Aang, and to myself." He adjusted himself briefly, and – after allowing himself the yawn – began the story. "Several lifetimes before I lived, over nine hundred years ago, the Avatar was reborn as a Firebender named Tenzin – "

Katara jolted with recognition. "Wait – Avatar Tenzin! I know about him!"

He looked a bit taken aback by her interruption. "You do?"

"Yes!" she cried enthusiastically. "He restored balance by closing up some of the pathways between the Spirit World and the human world, right? And then he disappeared, and his wife went to sleep forever... I mean, that's the story I heard. Is that really what happened?"

"Ah," Kuruk said carefully, "yes, but – unfortunately, it's much more complicated than that. Let me start at the beginning: I assume you know, then, that in Avatar Tenzin's time, the Spirit World overlapped much more with the human world than it does now, and both spirits and humans could cross over more freely. When Tenzin was born, the world was out of balance because the spirits held too much power over the mortal world. These days, I fear, the balance may be tipping in the opposite direction – But, I'm sorry, I digress." He yawned again, and shook himself. "Avatar Tenzin was born into a noble family, and in his childhood he was close friends with a princess named Zara. They grew up alongside one another. And the story goes that when they were both still fairly young, before Tenzin even knew he was the Avatar, Zara once encountered Koh in the physical world – "

"Koh left the Spirit World?"

He paused, gathering his thoughts, and nodded slowly. "Like I said, the boundary between the two worlds was very indistinct back then, and many spirits lived almost in-between. As far as I know, Koh kept mostly to his own realm as he does now, and didn't actively seek out victims, usually. But if they wandered into his territory, of course they were fair game – and Zara did, probably on accident. And she would have had her face stolen right there, except that Tenzin slipped into the Avatar state and intervened to save her, banishing Koh to the Spirit World in the process... And this incident was, of course, when Tenzin first knew he was the Avatar; and I believe it was also what began him on his lifelong quest to close up the excess of crossing points between the two worlds. He drove a great number of other spirits out of the mortal world during his lifetime – something that many, on both sides, didn't always see as a good thing."

Katara furrowed her brow. "But – wasn't it necessary back then?"

Kuruk shrugged lethargically. "To an extent, yes... Of course, I wasn't there, so I can't say whether or not all of Tenzin's actions were entirely justified. But whatever the case, Tenzin and Zara grew up and eventually married, and all the while Koh harbored a grudge against Tenzin for his banishment, and especially for robbing him of Zara's face, which should have been rightfully his, since she'd come into his realm and had shown emotion in his presence." Kuruk paused again, and his face fell into a grim frown. "Generally, Koh is apathetic to all creatures other than himself. But if there's one thing I know about him, he can hold a grudge indefinitely."

"So did he come back and steal her face?"

"I'm getting to that," Kuruk held up his hand, breathing wearily. "... Avatar Tenzin earned himself a great many enemies in his time – not just Koh – because of his crusade to liberate the human world from havoc-causing spirits. Some of the spirits he subdued grew violent and vengeful, and began causing trouble wherever they could, at last attacking Tenzin's wife Zara and putting her into a deep sleep from which no one could wake her. So, to placate the angry spirits, Tenzin agreed to essentially banish _himself _to the Spirit World, to be their willing captive as long as they agreed to live in peace with the mortal world again, and to release Zara from her sleep."

Katara nodded, recalling the story that Iroh had told her years ago. "But then she went back to sleep forever anyway, right?"

Kuruk didn't reply immediately. His eyelids were fighting to stay open, and once again Yue gave him a gentle nudge. He shook himself again, and frowned at Katara, as if he'd forgotten what he was talking about.

"Sleep?" he muttered. "Oh, yes – Zara, sleep. Yes, basically, she put herself to sleep. Since Tenzin had widened the distance between the two worlds, the only way she could see him again was to cross into the Spirit World through deep meditation."

"So if he hadn't done that..." Katara's sentence trailed off, as she suddenly realized a new layer of tragic irony in the already ironically tragic story.

Kuruk nodded sadly. "If he hadn't... But he had, and there was no changing it. So, yes, Zara began to study various herbs and medicines, and finally created some concoction to put herself into a heavy sleep-like trance for long periods of time, to allow her to spend as long as she wanted in the Spirit World with Tenzin. They were apparently happy, for a time; as happy as they could be, at least, considering the circumstances. But then one day, when neither of them expected it, Zara passed into the Spirit World for her usual visit, and found Koh waiting for her there. Then Koh finally claimed his rightful prize from years before: he took her face. And so when Tenzin arrived, all he found was his wife's faceless spirit, wandering around blindly."

Katara shuddered at the thought. "Then what? Did he get her face back?"

"Well, I don't know what exactly happened," Kuruk admitted with a weary sigh. "No one does, really. Not even Zara herself. Only Koh and Avatar Tenzin knew – but Koh won't ever tell, and Tenzin is... Well, he's no longer able to tell. But whatever the details, it seems that Tenzin either tricked Koh, or coerced him somehow, into exchanging his face for hers. Zara was restored to herself, and Koh kept Tenzin's face instead."

"So – " Katara stammered, mouth hanging open. "So Zara's was the face he was cheated out of?"

"Yes. He was cheated out of it _twice_, if you want to count the first incident when they were children."

"And – and then, Tenzin's face was...?" She was already beginning to guess the rest of the story, anticipating it with dread.

"I'm getting to that," Kuruk said again, solemnly, with a vague wave of his hand. "After her face was restored, Zara chose to abandon the physical world for good. Her body had already wasted away quite a bit by then, and she had nothing left there, so she put herself permanently to sleep and stayed here in the Spirit World, spending all her time trying to find a way to save Tenzin from Koh. She visited Koh's realm day after day, for a very long time – I don't know exactly how long, but it must have been centuries. She and Koh, of course, became very familiar with one another over all that time, and their mutual hatred and enmity grew stronger and stronger. Zara mastered her emotions so completely that, even when she wasn't anywhere near Koh, her face was almost always as blank as stone. It still is – you'll see when you meet her. And Koh only grew to hate her more and more. He hated them both: Zara, whose face should have been his, but who never would be his again, though she constantly returned to haunt him and remind him of how he'd been cheated; and Tenzin, who'd been the cause of it all. At last, in a fit of rage, Koh destroyed Tenzin's face – partly for revenge on Tenzin, but mostly out of spite for Zara, and to get her to leave him alone once and for all."

Although Katara had already guessed that Avatar Tenzin's was the face that Koh had destroyed, she was still breathless with horror when Kuruk said it aloud. "So, what happened to Tenzin then?" she asked, frowning. "I mean – did that – _kill _him?"

"Oh - no," Kuruk yawned. "Tenzin hadn't actually been alive in the physical sense for quite some time by that point."

"So, what happened to him? What happens when Koh destroys someone's face?"

"His spirit was destroyed," Kuruk replied, almost in a whisper, and Katara saw him shudder as well. "Permanently ruined. I believe he's still kept somewhere in Zara's realm, faceless just like all the rest of Koh's victims, but completely lifeless. With no hope of ever being restored."

The idea of Avatar Tenzin's fate – not death, but _obliteration_ – made Katara feel rather nauseous. Especially knowing that Koh could do the same thing to Aang any time he pleased. "That's..." she rasped. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard."

"Yes, I know," Kuruk sighed sorrowfully. "After that, Zara established herself forever as Koh's greatest enemy. To this day, she's – I guess you could say, she's Koh's antithesis, if you know what I mean. The light to his shadow. The yang to his yin... She took her husband's broken spirit to rest, and built her garden around him, and took on the role of a guardian. A caretaker of all of Koh's victims, gathering them from around the Spirit World into her garden, where they can find rest and be somewhat at peace, until by some impossible chance their faces are finally returned to them." He paused for a long while, losing himself in distant thoughts. "My dear Ummi is still one of those that live in her garden."

"And that's where Aang is now too, right?"

Kuruk nodded. "You'll see it for yourself soon. Yue will take you there before you confront Koh."

Katara took a moment to absorb everything, struggling to fit all the pieces together. She took a slow, steady breath, and then looked up at the grim Avatar. "So... what about you, and Ummi? How do you fit into all this? Why did Koh steal her face?"

Kuruk didn't respond immediately, though he seemed to grow more alert, more awake, at the question; his expression became more severe, and when he finally spoke, his voice was suddenly sharp with fierce hatred.

"Koh never forgot his grudge against Tenzin and Zara," he said. "And he only became more bitter after destroying Tenzin's face – bitter that Zara had tormented him until he was forced to destroy one of his precious faces. Especially since it was really _her _face that he wanted, not Tenzin's. He'd been cheated out of her face twice, and she hadn't even allowed him the pleasure of keeping Tenzin's face as a consolation. But, since he couldn't exact his revenge on Zara herself, he instead found an excuse to punish _me_. I – " He hesitated, and his voice grew a bit softer. "I wasn't a great Avatar, I admit. I was lazy and careless. Koh saw my weakness as cause enough to steal my love away from me."

She only gaped at him for a moment, astonished. "So he took your wife because you were _lazy_?"

"Passive, indecisive, ineffectual." He sighed with heavy regret. "Yes, lazy is one way of putting it. At least, that was Koh's justification for it."

"That seems a little harsh! Don't you think?"

"For the longest time," Kuruk went on, shaking his head in sleepy, baffled fury, "I couldn't understand why he'd chosen to punish me so terribly for such a – well, no, I won't say it was a small failure – but such a _relatively_ harmless fault. Nothing I ever did, or failed to do, jeopardized the balance of the world, as far as I'm aware. It was a purely personal failure, you could say... But even more than that, I couldn't understand why he would choose to punish Ummi for _my _mistakes! It was only later, when I learned about Tenzin and Zara's story, that I began to understand... See, Koh has a tendency to view all the Avatars as a single being – which, in a way, we are. But we're also significantly distinct, as I'm sure you already understand very well, Katara. Koh _does _differentiate between one Avatar and another, but only barely – only when he feels like it. And I suppose, in his mind, he felt that stealing the face of _my _love was almost as gratifying as stealing the face of Avatar Tenzin's love, whom he could never have. I was merely unlucky enough to be alive at the time when Koh's bitterness rose to its climax... And Ummi was unlucky enough to be loved by a faulty Avatar – one whose punishment Koh could justify, if he wished."

Kuruk grimaced as he spoke that last sentence, and his voice shattered faintly. Katara could see how severely he blamed himself for the entire thing, and she understood his pain completely. Quivering with pity and rage, she stammered, "I'm so – I'm so sorry. I can't believe..." Then she trailed off momentarily, struggling to gather her thoughts, and at last furrowed her brow at him quizzically. "But – what about Aang? What does all this have to do with him? Why did Koh take his face?"

Somehow, Kuruk grew even more somber, and his eyes fell to the ground almost ashamedly. "I'm... I'm afraid that might be my fault, too."

She stared at him. "What?"

"I've hunted Koh for centuries," he said, "trying to slay him and save Ummi. But only about five years ago did I ever finally come close to succeeding. I attacked Koh with a poison made by Zara, and I would have defeated him, had I only been able to... But never mind. You'll learn more about that from the others. The point is, it wasn't very long after my failed attack that Koh stole Aang's face. Honestly, I don't know for sure why he went after Aang specifically – maybe the others will know more – but I personally think that he was simply furious that I'd come so close – _so _close – to actually defeating him... and he wanted to punish someone for it. He couldn't punish _me_; I hid myself well from him. But there was Aang... Like I said before, Koh doesn't usually seem to see much difference between one Avatar and another, especially when he doesn't want to." He paused, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again forcefully and went on. "Of course, it could be that he already had some grudge against Aang on top of that, or possibly some other motive – but I really don't know... It seems to me that Aang was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Koh took the opportunity."

Katara was boiling, trembling with fury. "That's – that's not fair!" she sputtered savagely. "How could he – ? Just because he – !" She stopped, unable to speak anymore, too overwhelmed, thinking about how much both she and Aang had suffered – and everyone else, too – all because of Koh's temper.

"I'm sorry, Katara," Kuruk murmured with solemn earnestness. "If this was my doing, I can't possibly apologize enough. I know how you feel, more than anyone, and I'd never wish my own grief on anyone else... But like I said, all I can do is speculate about why Koh stole Aang's face. The others might be able to tell you more."

"The others?" Katara frowned at him. "Who are the others?"

Yue suddenly spoke again, startling Katara, who'd almost forgotten that she was still there. "You'll meet them soon, Katara," she said. "In fact, we ought to be moving on. There's isn't much time left."

"Here," Kuruk said, with sudden urgency, as if he'd just remembered something important. "Take this." And he reached into his fur coat and pulled forth a small, strange plant – a bulge of knotted roots – and handed it to Katara.

"What _is _that?" she stammered, baffled, but taking it from him nevertheless.

"It's one of the ingredients for the poison I used in my last attack on Koh," he explained slowly. "A root from the farther end of the Spirit World. The last one I have... the others will provide you with the rest. Give it to Zara when you see her – she'll make it for you. You'll need it if you want to defeat Koh."

Katara examined the odd mass of roots for a second, then glanced up at Kuruk in uncertainty. "Will that... will it – _kill_ him?"

"The poison?" Kuruk blinked dazedly, then shook his head. Katara could tell he was fading fast, and would soon be fast asleep again. "No, no. The poison itself won't kill him. Defeating Koh isn't going to be quite that simple, unfortunately. If it was, I would have slain him myself long ago... But you'll still need it."

"Thank you."

"And one more thing, Katara – "

She looked at him. "What?"

In a sudden final burst of alertness, he fixed her with a very solemn, very stern gaze. "When the moment comes," he said, "run for the light. And don't stop."

Staring at him, Katara shivered with an uncanny sense of déjà vu, and once again she wondered fearfully if this wasn't all just an especially vivid and detailed dream. His words mystified her, but they didn't quite perplex or surprise her; she felt almost as if she'd been waiting for them, without knowing it, even though she had no idea what exactly he meant. For a second, she thought about asking him to elaborate – but something about the way he spoke, the finality in his tone, told her that their conversation was finished, and that she'd understand it soon enough. So she merely nodded, and rose to her feet.

"Thank you," she said again.

"I wish you the best of luck, Katara," he said, already beginning to surrender to sleep once again. "I believe you can do what I couldn't. And when you succeed, believe me, you and Aang won't be the only ones who'll find peace."

* * *

><p>"It's taking a long time," Tenzin sighed uneasily, cautiously skimming his toes against the glassy water that rippled against the brink of the pond. "Why isn't she back yet?"<p>

"Just be patient," Sokka said. "It hasn't been that long." He hoped that his voice didn't give away how anxious he was himself, or how much Tenzin's question had been haunting his own thoughts.

Zuko was on his feet now, pacing slowly at the far end of the little island, saying nothing. Ursa came and sat in the grass beside Sokka, staring at the circling Koi fish as if she were hypnotized by them. Her stomach growled loudly enough for Sokka to hear it. He glanced at her.

"You hungry, squirt?"

"Yeah, a little," she admitted reluctantly.

"Me too," Tenzin said timidly, glad someone else had brought it up first. "But I don't want to leave."

"Me neither," Ursa said. "I mean, what if she comes back when we're gone?"

Sokka sighed. He'd been feeling hungry as well, but had hoped to wait it out until Katara returned. But who knew how much longer it would be?

"Well," he said, rising to his feet and stretching with a groan. "I can see if one of those Waterbenders standing guard outside the door can bring us some food. That way we don't have to leave. How does that sound?"

Both Tenzin and Ursa approved of the idea very fervently, and Tenzin offered to walk with Sokka back to the entrance of the Oasis. After the two of them crossed the bridge, leaving Zuko and Ursa alone on the island, Zuko came and sat down beside his daughter with a weary sigh. She looked at him.

"Are you worried, dad?"

He didn't reply at first. Then he glanced down at her. "Are you?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Me too. A little."

Ursa hesitated. "What's gonna happen if she doesn't come back?"

"She will," Zuko said, firmly and quietly. "She'll come back."

"But what if she doesn't?" Ursa asked again in a hush, her voice trembling a bit. "What are we gonna do?"

The despair in her question startled him, and he wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to simply insist again that Katara was, without a doubt, coming back, because he didn't fully believe it himself, and it had been eating him alive that that final glimpse they'd had of her disappearing into the water might very well be the last time any of them ever saw her. And it didn't seem right to pretend for Ursa's sake that he wasn't thinking about that possibility. To act like it was impossible for Katara to fail – to pretend that things didn't sometimes go horribly wrong, and that sometimes people just didn't come back. He couldn't pretend; he couldn't deceive her like that.

He looked down at her pensively for a moment, studying her face – her anxious amber eyes veiled beneath the dark line of her bangs. For a second, he saw how much of her mother was in her, and thought of how much they'd both lost already. But he put his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest, holding her tight, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"We'll take care of each other," he said. "No matter what. All right?"

"Okay," she whispered. And again she began to stare – entranced – at the circling Koi fish in the placid pond.

* * *

><p>As Yue led her on through the surreal landscape of the Spirit World, deep into a different and darker forest than the one they'd come through earlier, Katara scrutinized the strange bulbous root Kuruk had given her. She'd never seen any plant like it in the normal world, and she wondered where exactly it came from, what it was called, what it did.<p>

And she wondered also, again, what she was going to do, what she was supposed to do, when she finally confronted Koh. After her conversation with Kuruk, she was gathering some vague ideas, but they were all tangling together confusedly in her mind. Before, she'd had the vague notion that she might just talk to the Face-Stealer, somehow appeal to him to give back Aang's face; but that didn't even seem like an option now. Especially since Kuruk had given her this _thing,_ to make some kind of poison – which wouldn't kill Koh, but was apparently still important, for some mysterious reason. Perhaps she was supposed to threaten Koh into giving up Aang's face? – No, just the idea of that seemed ludicrous. How could _she _possibly be threatening to the _Face-Stealer_? And she was terrified that if she made him too angry, he might just destroy Aang's face, the way he'd done with Avatar Tenzin. Perhaps she could... trick him, somehow? But _how?_ That idea seemed absurd, too.

– And even if she managed to save Aang, one way or another, what about all the other faces? What about Ummi? Somehow this had become about more than just Aang now. Kuruk seemed to think that Katara was going to defeat Koh and save _everyone_.

_Defeat Koh_... Would she have to – to kill him? It seemed like that was the only alternative left – but could she really do that? Slay the Face-Stealer, even though Kuruk hadn't been able to do so for five hundred years? Was that even possible, to kill Koh? Was that allowed? It felt wrong somehow. And how would she even go about such a thing? And what would happen to all his stolen faces if she killed him? What was she supposed to do?

"What are you thinking about?" Yue asked her suddenly.

"I'm wondering what in the world I'm doing here."

"What do you mean?" Her brow furrowed softly.

"I mean," Katara stammered, closing her eyes and surrendering to her own utter helplessness for a moment. "Why am _I _the one doing this? It all seems so much bigger than me now. And I still have no idea what I'm supposed to do, or how, or why... I mean, I guess at least I have a better idea now of why all this happened, but – what am I doing here? How can I do anything? I don't even know where to begin."

"You've already begun, Katara," Yue said, with a small smile. "Remember, we still have two more places to stop before you face Koh. By the time we get done, you'll feel very different about everything, I promise."

Katara hesitated. "Yue, I – I have a kind of strange question..."

"What is it?"

"Am I – " She paused, struggling with what exactly she meant to ask. "Am I supposed to – you know – _kill _Koh? Is that what I have to do? Is that even right? I mean, obviously I have to save Aang, and I'm starting to get the feeling that killing Koh might be the only way to do it. And – it's not that I – well, honestly, I kind of think Koh deserves it. And clearly Avatar Kuruk had no qualms about it. But... I'm just thinking, wouldn't it be bad to slay an ancient spirit, no matter what they'd done? Just bad for – for the balance of the world, or something?"

For a few seconds, Yue only gazed at her uncertainly. "Well," she said slowly, "yes, generally, it would be extremely ill-advised, even though – even though Avatar Kuruk's been trying to do it for centuries. But, Katara, I'm afraid this isn't going to be a matter of just killing Koh. It's a bit more complicated than that. See, if you were to just kill him, you'd almost definitely destroy all the faces he's stolen as well."

"What? Really? Are you sure?"

Yue nodded carefully. "It's very likely. Though, I'm not any kind of expert about Koh myself. That's why you need to talk to the others; they know a lot more about this than I do. But – yes, as far as I know, that's what would happen. So, um... you don't want to do that. I think that's one of the main reasons Avatar Kuruk's never been able to defeat Koh. He couldn't kill him without destroying Ummi, and everyone else, in the process."

Katara gaped at her, feeling dizzy with the seemingly impossible task before her, suffocated by her own inadequacy. "Well, if I can't reason with him, and I can't kill him, then what am I supposed to do?"

"The others will tell you more, when you talk to them," was Yue's simple response.

"The others? _Who _are the others?" Katara demanded in exasperation.

"We're here," Yue announced very suddenly, raising one of her pale white hands and pointing straight ahead. Before them, on the top of a small hill, stood what looked like a kind of temple: a towering pagoda supported by dozens of tall, slender stone columns, shining like a vibrant white crown in contrast to the dark trees below. The light here, Katara suddenly noticed, was cool and wintery – quite different from the golden light of the moor where she'd spoken to Kuruk. The sky shimmered with streaks of green and violet, almost like the aurora she'd often seen at home in the South Pole. She hadn't noticed the changing light when they were walking, and it surprised her – and also filled her with a strange new sense of dread. It gave her the feeling that time was passing very quickly, and the hour was getting late.

But she allowed Yue to lead her up the hill, and they passed into the mysterious temple, into the circle of columns. There, Katara had to blink for a moment against the bright whiteness inside, and when her eyes adjusted, she saw an astonishingly large crowd of people, all arranged in a spiral, like the columns themselves. Some stood in a circle around the bottom floor, and others stood above them on level after level, ascending to a ceiling that was so far away Katara couldn't even see it. There were men and women of all races – too many to count – and Katara just stared in awe for several seconds. The place was larger, _much _larger, on the inside than it had appeared from the outside.

As Katara and Yue stood there on the threshold, the last person standing in this strange spiral of people – an elderly woman with soft hazel eyes and long brown hair tied back in a traditional Fire Nation style – stepped forward and bowed to Katara with a smile. Something in the woman's face – in her maternal smile, or perhaps in her eyes – reminded Katara of Zuko's mother.

"You must be Katara," she said. "It's so good to finally meet you, dear."

Katara stared at her – at all the people – in bewildered uncertainty. They were all gazing at her, as if they expected something, as if they'd all gathered here precisely for her arrival. Awkwardly, Katara glanced aside at Yue, but Yue only gestured for her to speak to the older woman who'd greeted her.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Katara stammered at the woman. "Who are you? Who are all of you? And how do you know me?"

"My name is Ta Min," she said softly. "When I lived, I was the wife of Avatar Roku."

Then the man who'd been standing beside Ta Min in the circle – a very tall, noble-looking Earth Kingdom man, with a subtle spark of wit in his eyes and a way of carrying himself that reminded Katara, strangely, of the Earth King Kuei, just a _little _bit – stepped forward beside Ta Min and also bowed to her.

"My name is Jianyu," he said, with a small but good-humored smile. "When I lived, I was the husband of Avatar Kyoshi. Pleased to meet you, Katara."

"Ummi can't be here, of course," Ta Min said, with a somber look. "And you'll meet Zara later. But all the rest of us are here – " She waved her hand around at the great multitude of people in the room, who all bowed their heads in respectful greeting to Katara.

"Wait!" Katara cut her off in astonishment, her stomach quivering uneasily. "Wait – so, are all of you...?"

"We're all as you are yourself, Katara," Ta Min said, rather cryptically, but still with a gentle smile. "Those that connected with the Avatars, spiritually and emotionally, in a way no one else ever did, and shared with them the deepest bond of unity that can exist between two people. And we're all connected with you, because of your connection with Aang. It's taken you a very long time to get here, dear. There's a lot to explain, and very little time left – "

"_Wait_," Katara choked again, holding up her hands, overwhelmed. She took a step back, breathless, feeling rather lightheaded. "I don't – I need a minute."

Helplessly, she just closed her eyes and hid deep within herself, processing. Trying to understand, trying to find her bearings. Yue placed a hand on her shoulder worriedly. "Katara, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm just – " Katara gasped, opening her eyes again and gaping at the innumerable crowd of people, who were all staring intently back at her with anxious expressions. She felt suddenly both uncomfortably important and horribly insignificant at the same time. "I'm just not – I'm not sure I understand. I'm not sure how to take this. So – what? You're all the... the people who were married to past Avatars?"

"Oh, uh... Well, no. Not quite." Ta Min looked slightly taken aback by the question, and shook her head. "Not all of us were married. Life isn't always that simple, unfortunately. We're just..." She frowned, and glanced up at Jianyu, who was quite a bit taller than she was (but still not as tall as his formidable wife). "How else would you describe it, Jian?"

Jianyu just shrugged. "I thought you explained it pretty elegantly, actually."

Ta Min sighed in slight frustration, furrowing her brow. "Well... It's really very simple, Katara. See, we're all..."

"The Avatars' great loves," interjected a complaisant-looking Airbender woman from elsewhere in the room.

"Yes! That." Ta Min nodded, turning back to Katara with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "Those that the Avatars loved most. The greatest loves of their lives. All of us here shared a very deep connection with one of the Avatars – the deepest bond there is. The sort that lives on even after death. And since we're all so closely bound to the Avatar, we're also, in a strange way, bound to one another. Kindred spirits, if you want to think of it that way."

"We've been trying to reach you for a long time, Katara," Jianyu said. "To let you know what had happened to Aang, especially since the past Avatars have all been somewhat out of commission, as you probably noticed. But with – with Aang in the rather... _unusual_ condition he's in now, it's been a little difficult."

"Wait – I'm still not sure I understand," Katara stammered, flushing with great discomfort and bewilderment. "So you all know me, because I'm – ? Because of Aang? So, are you all – ? This isn't some kind of... _reincarnation_, sort of thing, is it? Because I really don't think – "

"Oh, no, no!" Jianyu interrupted her, shaking his head and chuckling a bit. "It's not anything like that. That's something unique to the Avatar spirit. They're all the same, but different. We're not the same; just connected, because of our particular relationship with the Avatars. All of them are connected; therefore, so are we, to a lesser extent. But we are _similar_, in a lot of ways – which is fairly logical, when you think about it. We've all got something in common, whatever it is, that the Avatars felt drawn to. We're sort of, uh... spiritual relatives. Or – what'd you say, Ta Min? Kindred spirits? Yes, I like that. That's very nice."

"Thank you," Ta Min said, looking a little pleased with herself. "Anyway, the only reason we've all gathered here now is because of you, Katara. You don't have much time, and we want to help you in any way we can, because you're one of us."

"Am I?" she breathed faintly.

"Yes, you are," she said. "You and Aang had an attachment that he never had with any other person in his life. His love for you was very powerful – "

"Is," Jianyu corrected her hastily.

"What?" she frowned at him.

"You meant it _is _very powerful," he repeated, giving her an anxious look. "The boy's still around, remember."

"Oh, _is!_ Right, I'm sorry." She shook her head fiercely, with another absentminded wave of her hand, then quickly went on, gazing at Katara earnestly. "Katara, you're going to confront Koh very soon, and you need to know what you're getting into, if you want any hope of succeeding. And it just so happens we all know quite a lot about Koh, thanks to Zara – since she's one of us too, of course. We want to give you as much help as we can before you go. This is extremely important, dear: you _have _to defeat Koh and bring Aang back to the physical world, as soon as possible. You're the only one who can."

"I'm – why am I...? That's – I mean, I already knew I was the one who had to do it." Katara frowned at her in a daze. "They told me that from the start, that I was the only one who could do it. But... I guess, I still don't get why? Why did it have to be me?"

"It's _always_ been you, dear," Ta Min replied gently. "Aang attached himself to you from the first moment he saw you. And you were his balance – the one who kept him from losing himself in his darkest moments, and reached him when no one else could. From the very beginning, it was always you."

"But – how do you know that?" Katara stammered wildly, flushing, feeling as if her privacy were being severely invaded somehow – as well as a storm of other uncomfortable emotions that she hadn't quite sorted out yet.

"Because it was the same for me," Ta Min said. "And for all of us. The instant attachment, the balance – the love that wouldn't fade, even through years of hopeless separation. That _is _how it was for you, wasn't it, Katara?" She gave her a knowing look, and smiled softly.

Katara didn't reply; only stared at her, completely at a loss, feeling dizzy and slightly queasy still, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Really, this isn't anything all that unusual," Ta Min went on, when Katara remained silent. "Most human spirits seek to connect with another in this way – to find another person they can love completely, and receive complete love from in return. It's almost built into us, to want that. To want someone who balances us, and makes us more ourselves than we are on our own. The Avatars all seek that love, just the same as any ordinary human. The only thing that makes it... somewhat _extra_ordinary, is that, of course, the Avatar _isn't_ just an ordinary human. There's another dimension to it – their peculiar spiritual nature, which seeks to be a part of the world and everything in it, and _needs _a center of balance. A kind of anchor."

"Like the Moon and the Ocean," said an old Waterbender man elsewhere in the room, in an enigmatic tone. "Two that are one. They move us, and we pull them back toward the earth."

"And while many people in the world may never find the right person," Ta Min continued, "or might not recognize them if they do, it seems to be different for the Avatars. Their spirit draws us to them, like a magnet – or maybe something draws them to us – either way..."

"When they do find the right person," Jianyu interjected, and one corner of his mouth suddenly twitched into a subtle grin, "the attachment happens in the blink of an eye. It always does. Doesn't matter how old or young they are. Doesn't matter how long it takes for _us_ to figure it out ourselves – and it sometimes takes... awhile." He sighed, and chuckled; he seemed to be speaking from experience. "None of that matters. Once it happens, it _happens_. And they just know. There's no stopping it. And there's usually no breaking that attachment once it's made, either. It's a powerful thing, the Avatar's love."

"There's nothing particularly special about any of us," Ta Min continued, "other than that we just happened to be the right person. It happened the same way for me and Roku, and for Kyoshi and Jianyu, and for Kuruk and Ummi – all of us. Just the way it happened for you, Katara. You were – _are_ – You _are _Aang's great love. You're his center, and his balance. You've saved him many times before. Which is why you're the one who must save him now."

"You _must_," Jianyu echoed her emphatically, staring at Katara with sudden urgent intensity. And the entire crowd in the room stirred and rippled, while the words reverberated anxiously among them.

"It's your destiny, Katara," Ta Min said gently, as the others began to quiet down.

"And it's more crucial than you might realize," Jianyu added, with a grave look.

But an unbearable storm of guilt had begun to fall oppressively over Katara as they spoke – though she still wasn't completely sure why, or where it had come from so suddenly. She only felt increasingly filthy, treacherous, unworthy. She didn't belong here – she wasn't one of them, no matter how much they thought she was. She couldn't be. Not after – not after what she'd done to Aang. Not after she'd broken his heart. Everything they were saying only made her feel even more despicable about what she'd done to him, and all she heard as they spoke was condemnation. She couldn't be the right one. She would never – _never_ – have done that to him, ever, if she was really the right one. And if they knew what she'd done, how she'd crushed him, they wouldn't be saying all these things, or offering to help her.

"I – I don't think this is right," she muttered miserably, flushing and wincing and reaching feebly towards Yue for support.

Yue steadied her, scrutinizing her intently. "Katara, what's wrong?"

Katara didn't answer her; after a moment, she looked up at Ta Min ashamedly. "So – um... let me ask you something. Say, hypothetically, if – if Aang hadn't gotten his face stolen, and... and for some reason, I – I did something to – to break his heart. Are you saying he'd never...? – I mean, exactly how bad would that be?"

Ta Min gazed at her sadly for a moment, and Katara wondered if, perhaps, she _did _know. Perhaps all of them knew.

"Well," she finally said, with a sigh, "Like I said earlier, life isn't always as simple as we'd like it to be; it's complicated and messy. His attachment to you might even be broken, but only with a great deal of pain and difficulty. But it's more likely that, even if the two of you grew apart, that connection he had with you would always be there, in one form or another, unless something very drastic happened. Not all the Avatars married, you know; yet they all still had someone in their lives who filled that role, and few that I know of ever broke the attachment entirely. And if they did, usually they never quite recovered. They still loved, of course; but never the same way again."

"I just – I'm not sure I'm the one who should be doing this," Katara admitted, closing her eyes and holding her head faintly. A tear burned suddenly in her eye, simmering with guilty regret and devastating shame. "I haven't – I haven't been very good at this so far, I mean. What if I'm not the right one?"

"You _are_, Katara," Yue suddenly protested. "Of course you are."

"You are," Jianyu agreed, nodding quietly. "We all know you are. We've known for some time now."

"Katara, listen," Ta Min said urgently, taking a step forward towards Katara and fixing her with a stern, almost motherly stare. "I know you might feel right now like you can't do this, but believe me, you _can_. We all know you can. And you must! There's much more at stake here than just Aang's personal welfare – though, of course, we'd all like to see him returned home safely. But, you see, because of what happened when Koh took Aang's face, the Avatar cycle might just come to a standstill if something isn't done."

"What?" Katara gasped, taken aback.

"This might be a little strange to think about," she went on anxiously, "but when Koh attacked Aang, he went about it in a very unusual way. Most of his victims are spirits, without physical bodies. But in this case, he actually abducted Aang straight out of the physical world – body and all – and stole his face here, in the Spirit World. Luckily, he didn't take his face while Aang was still in the mortal world – "

"Yes, faces are generally important for things like... _living_," Jianyu remarked, with a grim shudder. "At least, in the physical world, they are. Here, it doesn't matter so much."

"But, if it had been different," Ta Min said. "If Koh had stolen his face while Aang was only here through meditation, in his spirit form – "

"Then his body would have gone on living in the mortal world," Jianyu finished, "while his spirit would have been stuck here without a face. To anyone who saw him out there, he would have seemed like he was just sleeping, or unconscious. You wouldn't have been able to wake him up, but he'd still be alive, and he'd age like normal and die eventually, even if his spirit never returned to him."

"But this is a completely different situation," Ta Min continued. "The way it is now, Aang is still here, in his physical form, stuck here. And as long as he's here, he won't die, even without a face. But he also won't age. He'll simply live forever, faceless."

"And thus, he'll never reincarnate," Jianyu said. "And the next Avatar will never be born. The cycle will be – well, _stuck_."

"So you see how disastrous this is." Ta Min studied Katara anxiously. "You saw how all the past Avatars are now, didn't you? The reason they're all so weak is because Aang is still _technically _alive – still technically the current living incarnation of the Avatar spirit – but he's trapped in this strange in-between, not-really-alive-or-dead kind of state. The Avatar spirit is dormant. And unless he's saved from Koh and brought back to the mortal world, then, for all intents and purposes, the Avatar will cease to exist."

Katara gaped at her, head spinning. As the full weight of the situation finally hit her, all she could manage to croak out was, "Oh."

"Understand, Katara?" Ta Min asked. "You see, you must save him. Not only for his sake, but for everyone's."

Katara shut her eyes, feeling as if she were being crushed under a terrible weight. She wondered if Aang had felt this way when he had to fight the Fire Lord. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to be there with her, so she could hold him tight and tell him all about how she felt right now, and they could sympathize with one another and both feel a little better.

But Aang was elsewhere, caught between life and death, only alive for now through a technicality. She was on her own, and she had to save him. She had to save everyone, because she was apparently the _one_.

"But – why is it like this?" she moaned miserably. "Why did this happen?"

"You mean, why did Koh steal Aang's face?" Ta Min asked, furrowing her brow.

"Yes, and – " Katara stammered, too lost and overwhelmed to understand her own thoughts. "Why all this? I mean – what am I supposed to do?"

"Katara," Jianyu said softly, "you spoke to Avatar Kuruk already, didn't you? Did he give you anything to help you?"

"Uh, yes," she said reluctantly, holding the mysterious knotted root out for them to see. "He gave me this thing, and said I should give it to Zara. But I don't really know – "

"Ah! Good," Ta Min interrupted her, nodding eagerly. "Don't lose that."

"What did Kuruk tell you when you spoke to him?" Jianyu asked.

Katara shook her head, and pressed her palms against her skull wearily. "He told me – he told me about Avatar Tenzin and Zara, and how Koh stole Ummi, and he had some vague idea about why Koh might have done this to Aang – but he wasn't even completely sure. And now there's all this pressure that I've got to save everyone, and it's my destiny, and the Avatar cycle's going to get stuck if I don't, and if I do it wrong then everyone's going to die, and – "

"Kuruk told you why Koh attacked Aang?" Ta Min asked her, frowning almost incredulously, as if she doubted Kuruk's knowledge on the matter.

"Well," she said slowly, forcing herself to exhale calmly. "He guessed that Koh went after Aang because... Basically, Koh was angry at Kuruk and wanted to take it out on someone, and Aang just happened to be there. Which just seems stupid and horrible – "

"Ah, I'm afraid it's slightly more complicated than that," Jianyu said dourly, with a bitter sigh.

"Some think," Ta Min also sighed, scowling, "that it wasn't just a coincidence that Koh went after Aang. That Koh _deliberately _planned to take his face in the specific way that he did, in order to halt the Avatar cycle and weaken all the past Avatars."

"What?" Katara sputtered in bewilderment. "But why would he want to do that?"

"Several possible reasons," Jianyu grumbled. "Revenge. Centuries of spite. Protection for himself. But probably mostly that last one – protection. It definitely got Kuruk to stop hunting him, for one thing. For another, it made going between the worlds a bit more difficult."

"Also, according to Koh," Ta Min said slowly, with a surprising fierceness in her voice, "Aang's power was too great. The power to bend another's energy. That was a skill that existed before the time of the Avatars – before the era of bending the elements – and none of the Avatars have ever known how to do it, except Aang. Koh argued that no Avatar should ever have so much power, over the elements _and _over spiritual energy." She shook her head. "He says it would only lead to imbalance and abuse, especially if Aang were to pass on his knowledge. Or even if someone else just saw Aang's power and tried to imitate it. Therefore, Aang needed to be... removed."

Jianyu suddenly glanced uneasily at Ta Min. "And – there was also – "

"Yes, _that_." Ta Min's eyes darted at him briefly, and then she gave Katara an apologetic look. "I hate to even bring this up, but – Katara, Koh also says that, in his view, Aang failed as an Avatar because he failed to put the world's needs above his own spiritual needs when he chose to use that power to take away the Fire Lord's bending, rather than simply disposing of the Fire Lord."

"_What?!_" Katara cried, incensed. "But he – ! But he ended the war! He restored the balance! Why does it matter how he did it?"

"I think Koh saw it as more of a personal failure on Aang's part," Ta Min sighed.

"He punished Kuruk for a similarly questionable reason," Jianyu said grimly. "And in that case, we're all fairly certain it was just more of an excuse. It's possible that Koh really does believe what he says, that Aang failed as an Avatar. But many of us think it's just as likely, or even _more _likely, that Koh was only looking for a way to justify his attack on Aang, the same way he did with Kuruk."

Ta Min paused, gazing sadly at Katara. "So, yes," she finally murmured. "It's a little complicated."

"But, what you said before, Katara," Jianyu added after a moment, "about Aang just conveniently _being _there, and Koh taking advantage of the opportunity – well, that's not really wrong either. Things probably wouldn't have turned out this way if Aang hadn't just happened to stumble across a place where Koh's realm intersects with the physical world, not very long after Koh was attacked by Kuruk."

"He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Ta Min nodded, "and Koh noticed, and saw the chance."

Katara was beginning to feel lightheaded and nauseous again – reeling with all this new information – and she felt Yue's hands on her arm, and leaned against her wearily.

"Okay," Katara said slowly, breathing. "I've – I've got another question. How am _I _supposed to defeat Koh? Why couldn't Avatar Kuruk do it? He's been hunting Koh for hundreds of years, and he couldn't beat him. How can I possibly do any better? I just – I know I'm supposed to, but I don't feel very equipped for this, and I don't understand."

"Avatar Kuruk can never defeat Koh," Ta Min said, rather sadly. "He might have at one point, perhaps, when he was still alive. But he's only a spirit now, like the rest of us. The only way he can take physical form now would be to manifest himself through the currently living Avatar; but unfortunately, right now that's Aang. So it wouldn't do him much good. Therefore, he can't possibly defeat Koh. None of the past Avatars can, and obviously none of us can either. This is something that can only be done by a living human."

"Why?"

"Because it must be done in the physical world," Jianyu said.

Ta Min nodded. "You won't be able to do any real harm to Koh here in the Spirit World. That's just the way it is. Remember Tui and La, and how easily the Moon Spirit was slain in the mortal world? The two of them, of course, chose to live there, understanding how delicate their existence would be. Koh's not going to be so willing to leave the Spirit World, especially since he'll probably be expecting some kind of repercussion for stealing Aang's face. But you'll have to _get _him to leave, one way or another, if you want any chance of defeating him."

"But – how am I supposed to do that?" she asked breathlessly.

Ta Min and Jianyu glanced at one another for a moment, and several of the people in the room shifted and rustled uneasily. Then Jianyu said, "Well, you'll probably have to... to lure him there."

"But how?"

Jianyu hesitated. "Very, _very_ carefully."

Katara scowled bitterly. "Thanks. That helps a lot."

"And once you do get him there," Ta Min went on, "unfortunately, you won't be able to just kill him. It has to be done a certain way. The only way to be sure that all his stolen faces aren't destroyed when you defeat him is... is for you to, uh..."

"You're going to have to – _remove_ his face," Jianyu stated bluntly.

"WHAT?!" Katara exclaimed, almost laughing with hysterical despair at the very idea of it.

"But not just any face," Ta Min said hastily. "His true face."

Katara's voice rose to a frantic shriek. "So you're saying that I have to _steal _the _Face-Stealer's face_? And just how is that done, exactly?"

"Now, don't panic!" Jianyu held his hands up quickly. "It shouldn't be that complicated. I imagine just, uh... just cutting it off would do the trick. Don't you think, Ta Min?"

She nodded, though her brow furrowed with slight uncertainty. "I don't see why not. But of course, only in the physical world. You couldn't do it at all, here."

"And cutting off his face wouldn't just kill him?"

"Well, we actually don't know if it'll kill him or not," Ta Min admitted uneasily. "But even if it does kill him, it's still the only way to do it that will ensure his stolen faces aren't destroyed."

Katara forced herself to breathe, and shuddered violently. "Okay," she rasped. "Okay. But only his _true_ face, huh? Well, which one is that?... Is it – is it that white mask? I used to see that one a lot in my dreams – "

"_No!_" cried everyone at once, startling her.

"Not that one!" Ta Min shook her head vehemently. "That's the face he wears the most often, but it isn't his true face. He likes people to _think _it's his true face. But it's really just what it looks like: a mask. Nothing more."

Katara gawked at all of them helplessly. "Okay. Then – but – but he must have a million other faces! How am I supposed to know which one is the right one?"

Jianyu sighed heavily, and shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Um," he murmured. "Well, it's – it's the only one he'll never, ever show you."

"But if he never shows it, how am I supposed to – to _remove_ it?" Katara sputtered, trembling with frustration.

Ta Min cringed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Ah, you see, dear, it's... It's, uh... Well, there's only one time you'll ever get to actually see it... Unfortunately, he never shows it, except... when, um..."

"Wait," Katara scoffed bitterly, already guessing what she was trying to get out. "Don't tell me. The only time you can ever see his true face is when... is when he's stealing _yours_. Is that right?"

Everyone in the room glanced at one another, all grimacing uncomfortably. Then Ta Min looked back at her and sighed. "Yes."

Katara covered her face with her hands and groaned miserably. "So," she said slowly, "so, let me – let me sort this out for a minute. So, the plan is... I've got to go to Koh's lair, or wherever he lives. And, without getting my face stolen, I've got to somehow get him to follow me into the physical world. And then, once we're there, _then_ I've got to actually _let _him steal my face, but quickly take his face before he gets mine. And if I accidentally mess it up and kill him some other way, then all the faces will be destroyed. Is that... is that about right?"

Ta Min gazed at her with something like pity. "Well," she sighed. "Yes, that's about it."

Katara chuckled savagely – in that way that meant she had a powerful urge to hurt someone – and turned away from all of them for a moment, trying desperately to gather her sanity. "Well! Okay," she snapped. "Sure. Sounds like a plan. Doesn't seem too hard. I can't believe no one's ever done this before!"

"Just because it's never been done," Jianyu said gently, "doesn't mean it _can't _be done."

Katara didn't respond to that; she didn't have the energy. With an exhausted sigh that dissolved into a miserable groan, she looked back at them. "And what happens if I accidentally... _remove _the wrong face?"

Ta Min winced again. "Then you'll just destroy that person's face. And you'll also make Koh very angry."

"So, if I accidentally cut off, say, Aang's face? Then I would basically just kill Aang, right?"

"Ah, yes. Essentially. And – and then you'd probably also get your own face stolen immediately, before you even knew what happened. So, um... don't do that. Please."

Katara nodded dazedly. "Right... I'll do my best not to do that, then."

"_Please_," Jianyu said again, urgently.

"Here, Katara," Ta Min said, suddenly holding forth a small flower with vibrant red leaves, and all its tangled web of roots still attached, dangling raggedly from the stem. "Go to Zara. Bring her this, along with the root Kuruk gave you. She'll make you something to help you handle Koh."

Katara took the flower, staring at it dully, and felt as if nothing was real anymore – including herself. Ta Min must have sensed her despondency, because the next moment she gave her a small, encouraging smile.

"I know this is a lot to take in, dear," she said softly. "And I know it must seem impossible, right now. But don't let it cloud your mind. Think of Aang. He loves you, and he needs you. And that's all that really matters. My sister used to tell me, when love is real, it finds a way. And we all believe you'll find a way, Katara. You can do this. For Aang."

And Katara, still feeling far away and half-asleep in her lost despair, nevertheless gazed up at Ta Min, and at Jianyu, and at all the others. And finally, she merely nodded, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

* * *

><p>The Spirit Oasis was utterly silent now. The moonlit afternoon had drifted on, unchanging, into a moonlit evening, and all sense of time felt irrelevant. Tenzin and Ursa had both fallen asleep in the grass, breathing steadily, lulled to sleep by the heavy, tranquil warmth in the air and the constant murmuring of the waterfall. Zuko was beginning to drift off himself, when he was suddenly startled out of his doze by the sound of Sokka laughing quietly to himself, for no apparent reason.<p>

"What's so funny?" Zuko asked drowsily.

"I was just thinking about something," Sokka chuckled, shaking his head. "It's stupid. I don't even know what made me think of it."

"What?"

"Oh, just – " Sokka leaned back, gazing up at the moon with a distant grin on his face, "this one time, way back – I mean, like back when you were still a bad guy, back – "

"So, pretty far back."

"Yeah. We stopped at this town somewhere in the Earth Kingdom – me and Katara and Aang. I can't even remember what the stupid place was called now. But there was this fortuneteller who lived there, and everyone in the town was crazy. I mean it – _crazy_. They all believed every word this lady said, so much that they almost got wiped out by a volcano – "

"That's hilarious, Sokka."

"Anyway, I remember Katara went all crazy over this lady's fortunes too. Started bugging her all the time and asking about her love life, and how many kids she'd have, and how she should dress in the morning. It was ridiculous. And even Aang fell for it, a little bit, 'cause I remember apparently this fortuneteller put the idea in his head that if he got some flower off the top of the volcano, he'd get a girlfriend, or something like that. He dragged me all the way up there with him to get that stupid flower. We never actually got it, though, because – well, we got a little distracted. But anyway... I don't know why I was thinking about this at all, but – I only just now realized, he was probably going up there to get that flower for Katara." Sokka snickered again softly, shaking his head. "What a sap. And I didn't have a clue. You know, come to think of it, I bet he wanted it that way, that little sneak."

Sokka fell silent, gazing away into the distance, smirking faintly to himself. Zuko didn't say anything for a while; he only studied Sokka thoughtfully. Finally, though, he decided to tell a story of his own.

"Back when Ursa was born," Zuko said, "Aang and Katara came to stay in the Fire Nation for a few days. Katara wanted to help with the delivery and everything. You weren't there, were you?"

Sokka glanced at him, and shook his head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Anyway, I remember," Zuko chuckled quietly, "I had to go outside while the whole – _birth_, thing – was going on, because I felt like I was losing my mind. And Aang came out and found me, and – I don't know, I guess he decided it was his job to calm me down or something, because he sat me down and tried to get me to meditate with him for a little while. But, uh, I wasn't really in the mood for that at the time, and I remember being pretty annoyed at him. But then after a while we ended up just talking, and I started to feel better. He got me talking about Mai, mostly – and about other things, too. I ended up doing most of the talking. I just really needed to talk, so that I wouldn't have to think; and I think he knew that, so he just let me go on. I got so distracted – I don't even know what I was rambling about, but I went on and on for probably at least an hour, and he hardly said a word, which was weird since usually it was the other way around, you know." Zuko almost chuckled again, but didn't. "Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, he interrupted me and said something like, 'Zuko, you're gonna be there when _my_ kids are born, all right.' He just kinda said it – like I didn't have a choice. Like that was just the way it was. And almost right after he said it, Katara ran out and announced that Ursa was born. Perfect timing. It was like he knew, somehow."

Sokka stared at him, and then they both stared at the ground, sinking into deep silence, thinking and thinking about many things. And Zuko let his eyes linger on Tenzin, where he was sprawled peacefully in the grass next to Ursa, and thought regretfully about all the things Aang _hadn't _known, and couldn't have known, back then.

"He was such a sap," Sokka muttered again, after a long pause.

"Definitely a sap," Zuko murmured, nodding in pensive agreement.

Then both of them allowed their eyes to wander back to the glassy surface of the pond, to the Koi fish, to the eerie depths below. And for the first time, they both – simultaneously – truly realized that Katara might be coming back up through that pond any second now, lugging Aang along with her, and then he'd actually be alive again, for the first time in five years. They both thought about it – thought very, very hard about it – but neither of them felt the need to speak their thoughts aloud. So they sat there, just thinking in silence, and the moonlit evening continued drifting on around them.

* * *

><p>Some time after leaving the others, Yue and Katara were once again traversing the Spirit World's bewildering terrain alone, on their way to Zara's realm, where all of Koh's faceless victims were kept. The final stop before Katara's confrontation with the Face-Stealer himself.<p>

Katara was still in a rather miserable daze, clutching at the two strange plants with one hand, at Yue's with the other, and stumbling blindly along after her. Yue guided her onward, and felt the muscles in Katara's hand seize up intermittently, as if recurring spurts of panic and anxiety were plaguing her. But Katara herself still kept perfectly silent the entire time they walked, and Yue couldn't help but glance nervously back at her every few seconds.

Yue was beginning to worry. She'd hoped that Katara would be in a more hopeful mood by now – now that she actually had some concrete idea about how to defeat Koh. But Katara only seemed more despondent than ever, and Yue feared that what she was about to see in Zara's realm might only make it worse, rather than better...

And, there was another concern that had been troubling Yue as well, for quite a while. Something she felt obliged now to tell Katara, while she still had a chance; yet she hesitated for fear of how Katara would respond.

"Are you all right?" she finally asked, with an anxious frown.

"Huh," Katara grunted feebly. "I'll be okay. I'm still just... trying to... absorb it all."

Yue glanced ahead for a moment, cringing before she even began to speak. "Katara," she murmured reluctantly, "I know you must be feeling really overwhelmed right now, but – I think there's something else you need to know. About Aang."

"What?" Katara's heart pounded faster immediately, already dreading whatever Yue was about to say. She couldn't imagine how the situation could possibly be more hopeless than it already was; but something in Yue's tone gave her the feeling that it was.

"When Aang returns to the physical world after all this is done," she said quietly, sorry that she was the one to have to tell Katara this, "it's – it's not going to be easy, I'm afraid."

Katara, half-numb by now, gaped at her for a few moments. "What do you mean?"

"While he's been here in the Spirit World," she began, choosing her words tentatively, "his body hasn't aged. But as soon as he goes back, all that lost time is going to catch up to him, _really _quickly." She paused, looking back over her shoulder at Katara, monitoring her reaction. "If he'd been here only a few days, or even a couple of weeks, he wouldn't feel a thing. But..."

"After five years?" Katara's voice only faintly scraped out of her dry throat.

"It's been such a long time," Yue sighed, shaking her head. "I'm afraid the return journey's going to cause him a great deal of pain. And he might... he might not survive."

"_What?!_" Katara cried, wrenching her hand away from Yue's in horror.

"That's why it was so crucial that you came here by the Solstice, Katara," Yue went on hastily, turning to face her. "Once the Solstice passed, it would almost certainly have been too late for him to return home alive. His body would have been here for too long – it wouldn't handle the stress of going back."

Katara was gasping wildly for breath. "But – " she sputtered frantically, "but we still have time, right? It's not too late yet, is it?"

Yue shook her head. "No, he definitely has a chance, now that you're here. But – even still, there's – there's no guarantee that he'll make it..."

Shaking with violent rage, Katara spoke now in almost a shriek. "So – so you mean that – that even _if _I manage to somehow go through all this and save him from the Face-Stealer, he might just _die_ the second I try to bring him back home?!"

"He's going to age five years in a matter of minutes," Yue said softly. "I can't say what kind of toll that'll take on him. I hope that he'll make it, but – I thought it was better for you to know now, rather than later. Just in case he... you know..."

"Dies."

"Yes."

For a minute or so, Katara couldn't speak at all – she only stormed, clenching her teeth, bottling in an agonized scream and practically pulling out her hair. "But – !" she finally roared, her voice shattering with pain. "But – ! No, this can't – ! I mean, isn't there some way to – to prevent that? To – I don't know! – ease him into it gently? What can we do, Yue? There must be something!"

"No, there's no way around it, Katara. It's just a risk you're going to have to take... I'm so sorry."

"This is – I don't believe this! I can't! – It's too much! I can't do that to him! It's too much, Yue! I can't bring him back with me if it might kill him! I _can't _do that!"

"But there's no other choice!" Yue cried desperately, her eyes churning with remorse. "You heard the others. If he stays here, the way he is, then the Avatar cycle will come to a standstill. You _have _to bring him back home, no matter the risk!"

Hardly breathing, quivering helplessly, Katara choked and coughed and began to sob bitterly – though her tears were vicious and full of rage. "I can't!" she thundered. "I can't! I can't do that to him. I – I won't be able to handle it if he dies, Yue! If after everything – five years, and coming all the way here, and all this – after all that, if I actually save him, but then he just _dies_, and it's my fault because I dragged him back there with me..." She covered her face with quivering hands and moaned. "No, I can't! I won't be able to – I won't be able to _live_ – I'll just go insane! – I'll just... Please, _Yue_..."

Her words started to dissolve into nonsense, and Yue quickly came and put her arms around her tightly, holding her still until she began to, reluctantly, calm down – still gasping desperately for breath and sobbing violently.

"It'll be okay, Katara," she said gently. "Be strong! I know you can do this. You can't lose hope, understand? There's still time. It's not too late. And you've also got me to help you, remember? No matter what happens, I promise I'll do whatever I can when the time comes. All right?"

Katara shuddered – an icy quake that began in her toes and rippled all the way up through her body – but then she exhaled slowly, and then again. And finally, she just nodded, staring numbly at the ground before her.

Releasing her, Yue took her hand again and led her silently up to the top of a jagged ridge. And on the other side, there stood a massive walled garden in a realm of violet-colored sunlight. The tall stone wall stretched very far in both directions, encircling the entire realm, and the high gateless entrance into the garden lay just before them.

"Here we are," Yue said softly. "This is our last stop, Katara. Let's go."

Katara didn't say a word; so Yue quietly led her down the slope, down to the wall and through the archway into the enormous garden.

Inside, everything was eerily silent, teeming with an uneasy kind of tranquility. It was the most beautiful garden Katara had ever seen – and yet, there was something grotesque and terrible about it as well, though she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. A tortuous maze of paths ran through it in all directions, hedged by carefully arranged bushes, colorful and alien flowers bursting from everywhere. Elegant bridges leaped impulsively over flowing crystal streams, but in unexpected places, unconnected with the paths. And the streams, though lovely, were oddly muted – the sound of their babbling water was so unnaturally quiet that Katara, at first, couldn't even hear it. Graceful gazebos, fountains, arches all rested in the shade of tall, abundant cherry trees, and a heavy, peaceful fogginess lingered over it all, blurring the distant areas.

But it was the impossible silence that was most noticeable, and utterly crushing; the entire place was filled with sorrow and bitterness, and Katara could almost taste it in the air, a sour flavor.

And in every corner of the garden were creatures: some lying lifeless under the trees, on the bridges, in the gazebos, beside the fountains; others wandering blindly about, like sleepwalkers, or ghosts in the foggy distance. Many were human, or at least they appeared to be – men, women, children, of all ages and races. Some were animals. And others were simply unspeakable things – exotic spirits, both gruesome and breathtaking. The overwhelming number and variety of creatures in the garden was astonishing.

But despite their variety, they all had one thing in common. All of their faces were covered up, their heads wrapped in white cloths.

Katara shuddered with dread, feeling yet again that she'd wandered into another of her nightmares, this one more vivid than any she'd ever had before in her life. Yet she was grateful, at least, for those white wrappings that covered them up; grateful that she didn't have to actually see their facelessness.

"Come on, Katara," Yue said gently, and her voice was more somber than it had been before. Katara got the feeling that Yue was just as unsettled by the place as she was.

Yue led her down one of the garden's many paths, carefully avoiding the wandering faceless spirits, and stepping gingerly around those that lay motionless on the ground. As they crossed one of the bridges, Katara accidentally brushed up against the spirit of a faceless elderly woman, and a violent chill instantly crawled down her spine. For several minutes afterward, she couldn't shake the uncanny feeling of the faceless woman's touch from out of her skin.

Finally, standing at the end of their path, they spotted the person they'd come to see. Zara, the guardian of all the faceless spirits. She stood tall and slender, dressed in white robes that, Katara thought, were rather similar to Yue's. But unlike Yue, her hair was long and dark brown, and she wore a red blindfold across her eyes. Her face was beautiful, but it was grim and expressionless – hard as stone.

As they came closer to her, Katara couldn't help but stare, transfixed by the blindfolded figure that was so familiar to her from the painting back in the Fire Nation palace – the woman who'd shown up so often in her dreams over the past five years. Now that Katara knew all the details of her history, Zara seemed to her both more awe-inspiring and terrible, and also more tragic and pitiful, at the same time.

"Zara," said Yue solemnly, when they reached her. She made a respectful bow to the blindfolded guardian, and Katara followed suit.

Zara was in the process of wrapping up the face of a small boy, and she turned her head and nodded wordlessly at them, despite the fact that she was blindfolded and (presumably) couldn't see them.

Meanwhile, Katara's awestruck gaze wandered helplessly from the expressionless face of Zara, to the little boy spirit whose face was currently being wrapped up in white cloths. The boy didn't look any older than her own little Tenzin. Her stomach crunched and curdled, and she hoped she wouldn't throw up.

When Zara finished with the boy's wrappings, she sent him away, and he wandered off stiffly – as if his mind was asleep, and his limbs were moving on their own. Katara continued to gape at him as he walked away, and only Yue's gentle nudging pulled her out of her horrified stupor.

"Katara," she whispered. "The ingredients?"

Katara blinked at her dazedly, shaking herself, and then looked back at Zara. The strange guardian was turned towards them now, her face fixed directly on Katara, as if she were staring at her straight through the blindfold. She didn't say a word, and her blank expression never wavered in the slightest. Feeling very uneasy and unreal, Katara held the roots and the flower out to her, and Zara took them from her hands with a solemn, silent nod. Then she held up a hand towards them, gesturing for them to wait, and stepped away into one of the nearby gazebos.

While Yue and Katara waited in silence for her to return, Katara found her eyes wandering all over the garden, attaching themselves to one faceless spirit after another. She tried not to let herself imagine who they were – who they'd been – how they'd gotten their faces stolen – what it must have been like, when it happened – what it was like to be them now. She tried not to imagine it, but she still did; she couldn't help it. But, more than anything, her eyes scoured the place for any sign of Aang. She knew he was somewhere nearby, and her heart began to thud wildly at the thought of being so close to him, after so long. But she didn't see him anywhere, and the more she looked at all the other spirits, the more she began to feel that perhaps she didn't really want to see him just yet. Not like this.

After several minutes, Zara returned, carrying a small vial full of a strange amber-colored liquid. She held it out to Katara, without a word, without moving a single muscle of her face.

Katara took it from her, staring blankly first at it, then at the blindfolded woman.

"What should I do with it?" she asked, feeling remarkably foolish yet again.

But Zara still said nothing. She turned towards Yue, and Yue gazed back at her for a moment, and Katara watched the two of them curiously. Then Yue nodded at Zara, and glanced at Katara.

"It's a poison that'll make Koh violently ill," Yue explained. "It won't kill him, though. But it'll make him angry – _very _angry."

"Shouldn't I... try _not _to make him angry, though?"

"But if he's angry enough," Yue said slowly, "he'll forget himself. You might use it to make him chase you back into the physical world. As long as you don't get caught before you get there, of course."

Katara swallowed hard, and shivered. "And where should I go?" she asked in a hush. "How do I get back to the physical world, once he's chasing me?"

Yue first glanced back at Zara, as if she were somehow translating Katara's questions straight into Zara's mind. Zara still didn't speak, but after a moment, Yue turned back to Katara.

"There's a place in Koh's realm that connects with the physical world," Yue explained. "It probably leads to the same place where Koh attacked Aang. But – I'm not sure exactly where it is."

Katara sighed wearily, and shuddered again. "All right," she murmured, tucking the poison away into her pocket. "I guess I'll just have to find it, then." She felt exhausted already, and she hadn't even done anything yet. And, although she did at least feel much more equipped to face Koh than she'd been when she first arrived, she still didn't feel _ready_. It all seemed utterly hopeless, and her chances of success felt laughably slim.

As she stood there, brooding miserably, Zara reached out and gently touched Katara's arm – it wasn't a particularly sudden gesture, but it still made Katara jump slightly in surprise. She stared at the strange blindfolded woman. And though Zara remained silent and expressionless, and though Katara couldn't see her eyes, something like understanding – sympathetic grief – passed between the two of them in that moment. Katara recalled the feelings she'd had the first time Uncle had told her the story about the painting, back in the Fire Nation years ago; she remembered how strongly she'd been drawn to it, how she'd felt a strange, sad kinship with Zara, even back then. And now, she felt it again, almost as vividly as the first time. And in that moment, suddenly all of Ta Min's talk of "kindred spirits" finally began to make a great deal of sense in Katara's mind.

Tilting her head as a signal to follow her, Zara began to wander off down another of the garden's many paths. And, almost in a trance, Katara followed, with Yue coming close behind.

They strolled along for what seemed like an enormous distance through the garden, following paths that wound and twisted so much that Katara began to feel very sure that they were merely going in circles. She didn't know where Zara was leading her, but she still kept following, without questioning it, just knowing that she was supposed to. And finally, the blindfolded guardian stopped walking, and raised her arm, pointing forward down to the end of the path.

There, under the leaning bough of a mournful cherry tree, lay a figure that Katara recognized immediately, even though his face was wrapped up in white cloths just like all the rest of them. He was spread out in the grass, lying perfectly still, with his tattooed hands resting on his chest.

Katara momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Is – " she gasped, "it's – it's actually him? Really – right there?"

Zara turned her blindfolded eyes to Katara, and nodded silently.

Without wasting another fraction of a second, Katara burst into a frantic sprint, racing towards Aang and falling to her knees in the grass beside him. Every particle in her body felt as if it were on the brink of an explosion. She trembled uncontrollably, and her head felt so light and cloudy that she almost couldn't even remember who she was. Yet, despite her excitement, for several moments she couldn't bring herself to touch him; she just knelt there, gaping at him, bursting with joy, but afraid. Yue came and stood beside Zara, watching. And Katara continued to hesitate breathlessly, hands quivering, pulsing with the desperate need to feel that he was tangible and real, and yet boiling with a dreadful, overwhelming, childish terror that he wasn't.

Aang didn't move at all; he didn't even breathe; he looked almost as if he were dead. But, at last, when Katara lifted her shaking hand and, carefully, placed it lightly on his own hand – the same hand that she hadn't touched in five years – she felt the warmth and life of his skin, and a burning jolt quivered in her spine and erupted into her pounding heart. She could feel his own pulse, slow and lethargic; his aliveness, and his realness, swept over her in a glorious torrent.

For several seconds, all she could do was sit like that, touching his hand, just savoring the concrete feeling that he existed. Then, finally, she grasped his hand firmly and held it between both of hers and began to move her fingers in and out and around his, in a state of absolute wonder, as if she'd never seen another human hand before in her life. She distractedly traced out the shape of his arrow tattoo with the tips of her fingers. And then, her gaze turned to his face. She dropped his hand and reached out for the white cloth wrappings that covered it.

"Katara – !" Yue cried, surprised and alarmed to see Katara about to uncover Aang's face. Hastily, she stepped forward to intervene, but Zara gently held her back, shaking her head solemnly.

Meanwhile, Katara's trembling fingers finally found the end of the cloth, and she tugged at it and began to unwrap it carefully. The layers of it began to peel away, and at long last she caught a single small glimpse of his skin beneath the cloth – just where his left eye ought to have been. But there was nothing there. Nothing but blank flesh.

She instantly recoiled, dropping the cloth and lurching away from him, unable to look at any more. She quaked violently, breathed frantically, choked and finally vomited in the grass beside her.

Yue watched anxiously, as Katara only sat there for a long while in a shuddering heap, struggling to recover, turned away from where Aang's missing face lay partially exposed. At last, Zara stepped forward, without a word – placed a hand gently on Katara's heaving shoulder, and then turned to Aang and began to carefully re-wrap his face.

Still quivering and reeling, Katara fought to breathe, to compose herself. At last, though, she coughed, and wiped her mouth, and rose shakily to her feet. Her fists clenched fiercely, and she turned back to Yue – and her eyes were blazing with powerful rage and intense resolve.

"Take me to Koh."

* * *

><p><em>Mwa-ha! Wow, that was a lot of stuff. *passes out from exhaustion*<em>

_Anyways, I wanted to share (i.e. confess) some of my nerdiness with you all, because I can..._

_So, you know the whole Tenzin/Zara/Koh story? Well, the reason I came up with that was two things: One, I always thought that the explanation of why Koh stole Ummi's face was really odd, and it seemed that there had to be something more to it than just "Kuruk was a lazy Avatar, therefore Koh attacked his true love and ruined both their lives for all eternity. Because that's completely fair and appropriate." Ye-e-e-a-ah... And Two - I was watching the Season 1 finale long ago, and when Aang was talking to Koh, Koh said, "How could I forget you? One of your previous incarnations tried to SLAY ME... nearly 8 or 900 years ago." But! I thought, Kuruk could have only lived 4 or 500 years before Aang, at the most!... So, holy crap, what if Koh wasn't talking about Kuruk? What if there was another Avatar BEFORE Kuruk who had issues with Koh? WHA-A-A-AT!... And my head exploded._

_Yeah, I know, it was probably just a writing mistake, and the creators hadn't really fleshed out Kuruk's story at that point. But hey, you know what? I thrive off of little details like that. _^_^

_And the idea of the Avatars all having that instant attachment to their true loves? That came about because I noticed there seemed to be a very common "love-at-first-sight/hopeless infatuation" pattern among the Avatars. The ones whose love lives we get to see, anyway. And I thought it would make sense that since, in a way, all the Avatars are the same (but different), then all their true loves would also be, in a way, sort of similar (but different). Kindred spirits. _^_^

_... I also came up with a really kind of adorable backstory about Kyoshi and Jianyu as I wrote this. Sadly, it's entirely irrelevant to this story, lol. Oh well. Maybe another fanfic one day. And by the way, yes, Kyoshi was married and had a daughter named Koko (thanks, Avatar Wiki!). But her husband was never given a name. Much like another super-awesome Earthbender I could think of... (psst, I'm talking about TOPH). What's the deal with these powerful Earthbender ladies and their invisible husbands? Seriously._

_What else? Oh, the idea of Aang aging rapidly on his return to the human world came from an old Japanese fairytale called "Urashima and the Turtle." Except the dude in that story was gone for 100 years, instead of 5... It did not end well._

_AND... the ingredients they gave Katara to make that magic poison are based on the ingredients used to make real-life syrup of ipecac, which induces vomiting (thanks Wikipedia!) _^_^

_Do I put too much thought into this story? Hm... Yeah, probably._ _Soon Yakko Warner will be coming to hit me with an anvil on behalf of the "Please Please Please Get a Life Foundation." (I really hope someone gets that reference, lol). _:D


	37. Strike Two

_Bwaha! Time for a Toph/Azula chapter before Katara meets Koh!... Don't have a whole lot to say for this one, other than that I love Toph dearly, and I'm very, very sorry for this horrible ordeal I'm putting her through. _:'(

_Many thanks to __**KataangLover138**__ for your helpful and logical ideas!... Even though they didn't really end up changing anything, lol. And also, __**Jomounti**__, I think you're gonna appreciate this chapter (I want to point out, though, I __was__ planning this chapter long before you wrote your review, but I'm glad you did anyway). _^_^

Mai: "Is this where I'm supposed to make a snarky comment?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Sure! Go for it!" :D<br>Mai: "Hm, I'm not really feeling inspired at the moment. Sorry."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw. Well, that's okay. Later. Anyhoo... How's life, Mai?"<br>Mai: "... I wouldn't really know." -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh, right. Sorry... Want a custard tart?"<br>Mai: *_shrug_* "Sure, why not?"

* * *

><p><strong>STRIKE TWO<strong>

Two or three days away from the North Pole, the ship pressed onward beneath a dismal gray sky through increasingly icy waters. And at some point early in the dull afternoon, a listless drizzle began to fall.

It fell over Toph, where she still hung, limp and barefoot and barely alive, in the frigid air. She didn't notice the rain.

It fell over the ship, and over the hole, the crucial gash in the deck – and down inside, pattering languidly on the metal floor below. But the hole was empty, for now; no one was there to be rained on.

It also fell across the broken glass of the wide window in the ship's bridge, high above the deck, where Azula leaned against the window frame and let the raindrops dribble down her face, her sharp eyes transfixed on the vacant hole below her, everything within her silently churning with uncertainty and anxiety, wondering where they all were, and trying very hard not to think about the upsetting person who might or might not be lurking right outside the door at that moment and rapping her knuckles against the wall.

And outside the door, the rain fell over Ursa, where she sat leaning against the wall and halfheartedly rapping her knuckles against it, wondering if she ought to stop now, and meanwhile contemplating many unhappy thoughts and fears and regrets, gathering her courage, smothering her bitter feelings of treachery and shame. In her hand was a small scrap of paper, delivered to her (by Momo) several hours ago. She'd been reading and re-reading the words hastily scrawled on it. They didn't appear to have much significance – no, they didn't appear to. But, she supposed, that was sort of the point, wasn't it? She burned them into her mind, and swallowed her shame.

"_my beautiful girl_"

That was all. That was everything.

After tracing out the shapes of the letters with her eyes one last time, Ursa finally ripped the note to shreds, letting the pieces drift to the ground beside her, letting the rain wash the words away. Then she rose to her feet, aching with a numb pain that was too deep for her to even acknowledge yet, and leaned against the bridge door. It was open only a crack – the space was too small for her to even get her thumb through – because Azula had pushed something heavy up against it to shut herself inside. But Ursa gazed through the narrow opening, and finally spoke quietly.

"Azula," she said. "I'm still out here. I haven't gone anywhere."

Azula remained silent.

Ursa breathed deeply. "See? I told you, I'm not with the others. You have to believe me, sweetheart. I promise, I'm not going to do anything to you. Will you please let me in?"

* * *

><p><em>ONE DAY EARLIER<em>

When Ursa had left Toph hanging in the air after the first lightning strike, she'd planned to come back.

"Toph!" she called. "Don't worry! You'll make it through this! We'll figure this out. Just – don't give up! I'll be back later, all right?"

Toph hadn't replied. And after hesitating regretfully, Ursa had turned and left her there. She'd sincerely planned to come back – though what she could do to help Toph, she didn't know. But, at least she could come back to talk to her, to let Toph know that someone was there; at least to make sure the poor girl stayed alive until something could be done.

At that moment, though, she believed it was her first priority to try to deal with Azula, to try to get inside the bridge. Inching her way toward the metal staircase that led up there, she kept herself flat against the wall and out of sight from the windows above. True, Azula had spared her life earlier when she could have easily killed her (Ursa was still puzzled by that), but she still dreaded that Azula might hurt – or kill – Toph, if she spotted Ursa roaming freely out on the deck. Not only that, but she would probably force Ursa to go down below with all the others, thus robbing her of this one meager advantage she had.

She had an advantage. She hadn't been trapped like all the others. But what should she do? She had no idea what she was going to do once she got up to the bridge. All she knew was that she had to do something, since she was the only one who could now. But what _could _she do? She was no match for Azula in a fight; there was no doubt about that. She had no weapons at all, and – more importantly – she doubted that she could even bring herself to hurt Azula, if it came to it. Even if she knew, logically, that it was necessary; even if she knew it was best for her to take Azula out. She wouldn't be able to. And the idea of somehow overpowering Azula without killing or hurting her seemed ludicrous; Azula would snap her neck in an instant, or kill Toph –

That thought made Ursa hesitate for a long while. Did she even dare approach Azula at all, with Toph in such a vulnerable position? Should she even risk it, already knowing that she wasn't prepared to do whatever it took to subdue Azula? Was it too dangerous for Toph?

But she couldn't just do nothing. She was the only one who could get close to Azula. She had to do _something_.

Looking back on that moment hours later, Ursa would realize how foolish she'd been, to try to get into the bridge and confront Azula without any real plan at all. But at the time she'd simply been confused with the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by the situation: fear for Toph's safety, fear for the others, fear for herself, fear for Azula – responsibility for everyone, the sense of duty and protection she believed had fallen on her now – and, most of all, that one enormous emotion without a name, which hadn't diminished in the hours to follow (had only gotten worse, really). The overwhelming, indescribable emotion that came with facing her long-lost daughter who was also a mad, ruthless murderer, and who might very well be that way because of something Ursa had done to her years ago.

No, it hadn't been easy to keep track of logic amid all those feelings.

Also, in all fairness, Ursa had woken up from a head injury only minutes before, so her mental faculties probably hadn't quite been functioning at their fullest potential.

So, without any clear plan at all, she had made her way to the narrow metal staircase, and had carefully climbed up to the thick iron door that led into the bridge. The wild notion of bursting through the door and tackling Azula to the ground passed through her mind. She would have to be quick, take Azula by surprise – that was the only way. She was the only one who could; she had to try. And if Azula killed her... Well, at least she'd tried.

_This is insane. She's going to kill me. There's no way I can..._

But her hand was reaching for the door. She was slowly turning the handle.

Taking a deep breath, she commanded herself to do it, and very abruptly threw all her weight against the door, bracing herself for the certain chaos to follow –

But the door jolted hard against something large and heavy, opening only a tiny crack. And Ursa realized immediately that Azula had barricaded herself inside.

Her heart raced with panic – Azula must have noticed her failed attempt to open the door. In blind fear, she instantly aborted all her foolish ideas and retreated, turning and bolting back down the stairs so fast that she nearly tripped and tumbled down.

At the bottom, she pressed herself against the wall again – out of sight – panting in breathless terror.

But nothing happened. If Azula _had _heard her try to open the door, then she didn't do anything about it.

Ursa forced herself to breathe.

So, she thought, Azula barricaded herself inside.

Of course she would. _Of course_ she would! Ursa should have expected something like that. How could she have imagined that she could just barge in there and save the day? That was absurd. What had she been thinking?

_What am I doing? What am I supposed to do?_

She couldn't get into the bridge. And even if she could, what would she do? What could she do against Azula?

And she couldn't do anything to help Toph. There was no way to get Toph down from the crane without setting off the bomb. And she couldn't do anything to remove the bomb itself – she knew nothing about explosives, and no doubt she'd only blow up herself and everyone else if she attempted to do anything with it. Besides, she couldn't even get near the crane without Azula spotting her.

And the doors were all welded shut. She couldn't do anything to let the others out.

What was she supposed to do?

Hastily, she turned away from the staircase, from the direction of the crane and the great hole, and ran in the opposite direction, following the wall until she came across one of the sealed doors. Then she began to pound on it, as loudly as she could, hoping to get the attention of someone inside. She had to tell them she was out here; she didn't know what else to do.

At last, after pounding on the door for what seemed like hours (though it probably wasn't), someone's voice finally called out from inside:

"Who's out there?" – It was a man, probably one of the soldiers.

"It's Ursa! I'm out here!" she cried. "Please, I need to talk to someone – let me talk to Iroh! Tell everyone I'm out here, hurry!"

His footsteps pounded away frantically, and several minutes later, she heard more footsteps inside. And then Iroh's voice spoke to her through the door:

"Ursa! We've all been looking for you! How did you get out there?"

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "I was out here before she sealed up the doors, and I saw her and she hit me on the head, and I only just woke up a few minutes ago. But I don't know what I should – "

"Sen!" came Yonten's voice suddenly. "I'm so glad you're all right! I was so afraid that – "

"Can you get into the bridge?" asked another voice – Suki's. "Have you tried going up there? If you could just – "

"No, she's barricaded herself inside," Ursa explained breathlessly. "What should I do? I have to do something! I don't know what I should do!"

"Ursa," Iroh said gravely, "listen to me! Stay calm. You have an opportunity that none of us do. You can get close to Azula and change the situation, if you are very careful. You must talk to Azula and persuade her to trust you – "

"Persuade her to _trust _me!" Ursa scoffed, collapsing against the door hopelessly. "Won't she just kill me, or Toph? How can I talk to her at all?"

"You said you ran into her before all this, but she didn't kill you?"

"Yes," Ursa panted. "I don't know why, but – "

"Then I think it's probable that she doesn't see you as a real threat, Ursa," Iroh went on. "Which means you might have more of a chance than anyone else. But you must use great tact. Be very cautious. I have faith that you can navigate the situation. But no matter what, you must try. You must try to get inside that room. You're the only one who can get close to Azula now."

"And what am I supposed to do if I _can _get inside?" Ursa asked in despair. "I don't think I – I don't think I can do anything to her, Iroh. I know someone needs to stop her, but I – I can't hurt her. I just can't."

"I know, Ursa, I know," he said gently. "You won't have to. I have a plan. All we need is an opportunity to diffuse the danger without Azula stopping us. But it's all going to depend on you. It'll all depend on you getting into that room."

Yonten spoke up anxiously, "But Iroh, what if...? I mean – then she'll be locked in the same room with Azula when we... What if something happens? What if Azula turns on her?"

A long silence. Ursa simply breathed. Then Iroh spoke to her again.

"Ursa," he said softly, "this is going to be very risky. If you don't want to do this, then – "

"No," she interrupted him, shuddering, but gathering her resolve. "No, I'll do whatever I have to. What's your plan, Iroh?"

* * *

><p>The wide bridge room, with all its controls and contraptions, had been utterly, deadly silent for several hours by that point – though it was far from devoid of life – and the air had been quivering with tension. The officers (the ones who were still alive) had all been chained up to chairs around the room – all except the helmsman, whose hands were chained to the helm. All of them free enough to get the ship where Azula wanted it to go, but restrained enough not to revolt. They still might have revolted, perhaps, but none of them felt any urge to now. None of them were trained soldiers, or Firebenders – their job was running a ship, not fighting – and Azula had stripped them of any possible weapons anyway. Not only that, but she'd already demonstrated her power and ruthlessness effectively enough to terrify them into submission: all of them had been severely burnt in the initial struggle, and they all now trembled at the thought of more. On top of that, the room itself was growing sickly with the bodies of four of their dead fellow officers, who'd been foolish enough to try to resist Azula's takeover. The only consolation was that the window had been broken in the fight, so at least some fresh air was coming in; but just the presence of the corpses was sufficient torture to discourage any further resistance.<p>

Even still, Azula had been keeping her back turned warily away from them. She leaned against the frame of the broken window, body facing the room, head turned in the direction of the jagged hole in the deck below. She was watching the room out of the corner of her eye, but her gaze was more intently fixed on that hole – fixed as if her life depended on it (which, essentially, it did). Her heart had been racing in intermittent spurts, bursting with strange convulsions of thrill and paranoia: the thrill of successfully, singlehandedly commandeering a ship full of some of the most powerful people in the world; the terrible paranoia that something might go wrong at any time between now and the North Pole.

_But there were no mistakes_, she reassured herself. _I thought of everything. Of course I did – I always do. It's all perfect. Completely under control. Nothing can go wrong._

A sharp chuckle burst out of her suddenly. It relieved her anxiety for a moment. And she liked the way it made the captive officers jump.

_Am I mad? Yes, I suppose I am. But could a madwoman have done all this so brilliantly?_

She honestly didn't know the answer. But she enjoyed the question.

That was when a voice spoke to her through the door.

"Azula?... Can you hear me?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Azula sensed all the officers in the room cringe in terror, anticipating her violent reaction to the presence of someone just outside the door – someone who wasn't trapped or under control in some way.

But Azula didn't react violently. Her heart did jump wildly when the voice first spoke, startled at the broken silence and the abrupt surge of panic: the terror that she'd overlooked something, that she'd made a mistake. But she recognized the voice instantly, and after the first spurt of anxiety, she exhaled and calmed herself. It was a voice she'd grown quite used to hearing over the years, and these days it just made her feel exasperated more than anything.

"What do you want now, mother?" she demanded irritably, without turning her gaze away from the hole.

The woman didn't reply for a long while, and Azula grew impatient waiting for her. When she did at last speak again, her voice sounded pathetically timid and feeble.

"Could... M-may I come in, sweetheart?"

Azula furrowed her brow, again without turning her head or taking her eyes off the hole for a second – without even blinking. "What's stopping you?"

Ursa once more took several moments to answer the question, as if she were puzzled by it.

"Well, uh... You've – you've blocked the door, darling," she finally said, in a gentle and (Azula thought) almost condescending tone, as if Azula was too simple to understand the concept of how doors worked. "I can't come inside unless you let me in."

Azula frowned more deeply. Something was strangely confusing about that – the fact that her mother was trapped outside and couldn't come in – though she wasn't sure, yet, what it was that troubled her. It just didn't make sense in her mind, for some reason. The door shouldn't have stopped her, if she really wanted to get in. Ursa had never had any difficulty appearing to Azula in unlikely places before. But Azula sighed in aggravation, and pushed those ideas out of her mind, focusing her attention once more on watching the hole, getting her priorities nicely back in line. Her mother wasn't important.

"Look, mother," she said fiercely. "I don't know what you want, but this is really not the best time."

"I just – I just want to talk to you."

"Well, you're talking to me now, aren't you? So what is it you want?"

Ursa fell silent for a third time. And Azula didn't say anything more, concluding (with an odd mixture of triumph and resentment) that the woman clearly didn't want to talk to her all _that _badly, since she had so little to say. She comforted herself with the bitter idea that at least Ursa would disappear, as usual, once Azula ignored her long enough.

But, strangely and frustratingly, Ursa didn't just quietly cease to exist this time.

"Azula," she began again, hesitantly, just around the time Azula was starting to make herself forget about her. "I – I know you probably don't trust me. I understand. But I just wanted to say I'm... I'm sorry."

Azula frowned, resisting the urge to take her eyes off the hole and glance back at the door. "Sorry for what?"

"For whatever I did to you. And for leaving you, all those years ago. I only want to make it up to you, sweetheart – "

"Stop calling me that," Azula snapped. "I don't care that you left. I don't even know what you're going on about. Why don't you just leave, mother? You're bothering me."

It suddenly vaguely occurred to Azula that the officers in the room must be rather puzzled, listening to her talk to a woman who wasn't even there. Of course, they must have already thought she was insane. After all, she _was_, wasn't she? She liked them to think so, anyway. Perhaps this would only make them fear her more. Azula felt rather satisfied at that idea. Perhaps she _ought _to keep talking to her mother after all, to solidify the impression of her madness on them.

Then it suddenly occurred to her, vaguely, that all of them had jumped when her mother had first spoken. As if they could hear her too.

And that idea – that her mother might be existing outside of her head – felt wrong, instantly perilous. That wasn't how it was. So Azula quickly did her best to snuff it out, before she gave it too much consideration. Perhaps they hadn't jumped, after all. Perhaps she'd only imagined it.

But then – she wasn't sure. She didn't like not being sure. It made her feel angry.

"Azula," Ursa tried again desperately, "please, I wish you'd stop what you're doing. This is wrong – look at all the suffering you're causing! I know somewhere deep down – "

"No, you don't," Azula scoffed, almost laughing with fierce disdain. "You don't know anything. You're not even real. You can't tell me what I should or shouldn't do. You can't possibly understand. You're not even real."

Ursa paused again. "I _am _real, Azula."

"No, you're not!" Azula insisted, very rapidly rising to furious boil. "I already know you're not! There's no point in pretending! I've always known! See? See, I _know _you're not! I'm not mad! I know what's real and what isn't, mother! I can tell the difference!"

"I didn't say you were mad, darling. But I think you're confused – "

"_No! I'm _not _confused!_" Azula suddenly shrieked, as if Ursa's words had been some kind of trigger. She at last tore herself away from the window and rushed back towards the barricaded door, pounding violently on the walls to try to scare her mother away. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! Don't tell me I'm confused! _You're _trying to confuse me! Leave me alone! _Leave me alone!_"

There was another brief silence, and then Ursa said sternly, "I won't leave you alone, Azula!"

"Why not? _Why not?_" Azula screamed, slamming wildly against the walls, pulling savagely at her hair. "Why won't you leave me alone? I don't _want _you around! I don't want you!"

Suddenly, she remembered that she was supposed to be watching the hole. Erupting with cold panic, she raced frantically back to the window, scanning the deck below desperately – certain that someone, someone must have escaped from the hole in that brief moment when she wasn't watching. She didn't see anyone on the deck; but now she couldn't be sure. They might already be out of sight, hiding, waiting to undo everything. She couldn't be sure now.

It was her mother's fault. She'd done it on purpose. She was trying to distract her – she was trying to make her doubt.

"Azula – " Ursa tried again, more forcefully.

"You're trying to trick me!" Azula shouted. "You're trying to distract me! You want to ruin everything! I know that's what you're doing – I know your tricks! I know exactly how you think. You think I'm mad – you think I'm foolish enough to fall for it, but I know you! You're just looking out for Zuko, aren't you? You don't want me to get to the North Pole, because you're scared for Zuko! Well, you're _not _going to trick me! I know what you're doing, and it won't work! I'm _going _to get to the North Pole, and you won't stop me!"

"Azula, listen to me!" Ursa cried. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm only trying to help you!"

"You always say that!" Azula shrieked. "That's what they always used to tell me, but it's a lie! I know it's a lie – I _know_ how things are! I don't believe you!"

"Please, this isn't – "

"Shut up! _Shut up!_" Azula scratched at her arms and tore her fingers through her hair. "Stop talking to me! I won't listen to you! I don't believe you!"

Ursa hesitated again. "What can I do to make you trust me? Please, Azula – I don't want anything to happen to you. I just want you to trust me."

"You can't do anything," Azula declared bitterly, after a brief pause, forcing herself to settle into a shuddering calm. She was calm – she was in control. No reason to panic. "I won't trust you. You're not even real. Just go away."

It was silent for a very long time after that. Azula kept expecting her mother to speak again, but she didn't. And she didn't. And she didn't.

And all at once, Azula was seized with another uncontrollable burst of anxiety. Had her mother really gone this time? Where had she gone? Suppose she went and talked to the others? Suppose she was conspiring with them, to undo all of Azula's carefully crafted plans and ruin everything?

No – but she wasn't real. She couldn't do that.

But – what if she did?

Azula listened. Her mother still wasn't talking.

Hesitating restlessly, Azula suddenly turned away from the window again and dashed towards the door, shouting frantically through the narrow opening, "Mom!"

"Yes! I'm still here!" said Ursa eagerly, and Azula could just glimpse her figure, standing just on the other side, gazing in through the slender crack between the door and the frame.

"Stay here!" she demanded severely.

"Oh!... A-all right, I will. But – ?"

"I know you're working with the others! You're trying to outsmart me, but I won't let you – "

"No, I'm – I'm not with the others, sweetheart – "

"Don't lie to me! You're going to stay here, so I know you aren't talking to them. That way I know it's safe."

"But – "

"Don't argue with me! Stay here and talk, or make noise or something, so I know you haven't left."

"Won't you let me inside?"

"No. Stay out here, and don't go anywhere. I'm not falling for your tricks."

* * *

><p>That was the day before. It was today now, and the rain was falling miserably, and Toph was still hanging from the crane silently, and no one was anywhere, and Azula watched the hole in the deck, letting the rain wash over her face, thinking about how much she didn't want to think about her mother.<p>

The woman was still out there, hitting her knuckles against the wall for some reason now – faint and slow and weary. Just _rap... rap... rap... _Azula didn't know why she wouldn't stop making that noise, but she wished the woman would just be quiet for once. As long as she kept doing that, Azula couldn't make herself forget that she was still out there (if she really was). And Azula didn't understand why it was taking so long for her to disappear again.

All Azula really knew was that she was getting thoroughly sick of her mother's existence. Or non-existence. Whichever it was.

No one was in the hole now. It was empty. The rain fell there, but the people were all elsewhere, in places where the rain – and Azula's savagely sharp eyes – couldn't reach them.

She let the dreary raindrops dribble over her face, and watched the hole. She hadn't taken her eyes off that spot for – who knew how long now? Days, probably. She was glad of the rain; it kept her alert. It felt unquestionably real.

_We must be nearly there now_, she thought. It couldn't be much farther to the North Pole. And all had been so quiet on the ship for such a long time now. So quiet. It was nice, that it had been so quiet.

And yet, it wasn't nice at all. It was horrible. Azula almost resented the quiet. She wished she knew where the others were. She didn't like not being able to see them, though she knew it couldn't be helped. As long as she could see, she felt in control. But when they were out of sight – who knew what they might be doing, down below? Who knew what they might find, what they might be planning, without her knowledge? She just had to trust that she hadn't made any mistakes, that she'd done things carefully enough that it wouldn't all come unraveled. But she hated leaving any details to blind trust; she didn't even trust herself, at the moment, and it was making her increasingly tense and unhappy.

If she couldn't trust herself, what was there to trust?

Her mother's haunting her hadn't helped at all. In fact, Azula could easily blame all her recent doubts and troubles completely on Ursa. Azula had been wondering now – wondering and wondering – if the woman might actually be real, after all, and not just the figment of her imagination that she'd grown so accustomed to over the past eight years.

And that idea, that Ursa was really there, made Azula question everything.

Had Ursa _ever _been imaginary, then? All these years, had it really been _her_, in the flesh, following Azula everywhere, haunting Azula, just making Azula _think _that she was losing her mind, when really her mind had been fine all along? And all those hallucinations had never really been hallucinations to begin with?

Azula couldn't handle that. She knew who she was – she _knew_. She knew that her mother wasn't real; she knew that she was mad – but by knowing it, that somehow made her less mad. Because she recognized it – she understood herself. Because at least she was in control. How many truly mad people understood that they were mad? – But Azula did. She was exceptional that way. She was in perfect control, even in the midst of her chaos.

But this disturbed her – this idea that maybe it really _was _her mother lurking outside that door. She particularly didn't like the idea that her mother might actually have been following her all these years, showing up at random to trouble her, to claim that she loved her, to try to stir up all her guilt, to try to make her think that she was crazy, to play with her head in ways Azula couldn't even fathom. She couldn't bear to think that someone – or _everyone_, perhaps – might have been playing with her head all this time: all this time that she'd believed _she _was playing with _their _heads. She couldn't stand the idea that her hallucinations might be real. It made her uncertain about everything else.

They'd all been saying she was mad for years. They'd brushed her aside, swept her under the rug, tried to pretend she was nothing, by telling her she was crazy, by telling her that they were confining her in order to help her. _Help her!_ Of course – that was just what they wanted her to think. But she knew how it really was. She knew much more than they thought she was even capable of. She knew they were all just trying to send her into oblivion, where she wouldn't trouble them anymore, where she wouldn't disturb their happy, orderly, delusional worlds anymore. _They _were the ones who were really delusional. They wanted to enjoy their fake lives – at the expense of hers – without having her around to put them in their place, and force them to face true, brutal reality.

_They think I'm mad._

_She thinks I'm a monster._

And Azula knew she was; she was both of those things. She'd heard it all a million times. She'd known it was true. She preferred to think of herself that way, these days. She'd accepted those labels as truth, and run with them; they were identities, notions of herself, that had been present in her every action and word and thought, for years now. The monster – the predator – because it's the predator who always wins. The madwoman who understands her madness – who drives _them _mad with her madness – but who always, always knows – who's always in control. That was who she was now. What else did she have?

What else did she have?

But now her mother was threatening to be real, and it was all falling apart. Slipping out of her grasp. Now she _didn't _know – she didn't know anything for sure – she didn't know herself as well as she thought. And if she didn't know, then she wasn't in control. And then who knew what might happen?

Had they all been tricking her, all this time? Had they all been tricking her into believing she was mad, when she really wasn't, and she'd just played right into their game, thinking that she was in control, when it was really _them _all along? And all this time, she'd thought they were her puppets – but really everything she ever did was because they'd tricked her? All this time, when she'd delighted in how well she could frighten them, make them run, bring them to their knees, make them sorry, make them take notice – how easily she stripped them of their agency, of all that defined them, and watched them crumble... All this time, perhaps, it had just been a show, and they'd all been secretly laughing at her and despising her more than ever, rolling their eyes at her sad delusions of power?

Azula's fingers tugged at her hair fretfully, subconsciously. She anxiously grinded her teeth, gnawed at her lip, clenched her fists, clawed at her arms, dug her fingernails viciously into her skin, as if she meant to tear herself to pieces.

But perhaps her mother _was _just imaginary, still. And perhaps all the frightened officers in this room were also imaginary. Perhaps Azula was herself. Azula actually thought she could handle that idea – that none of them existed. It was easier than accepting the notion that her mother was real again.

Or – even worse – perhaps, all this time, Azula had been assuming that it was herself who was real, and Ursa who wasn't – but it was really the other way around. And Azula was only a figment of Ursa's imagination, entirely at the mercy of Ursa's whims. And all semblance of control really was utterly and absurdly delusional.

Azula's fingernails drew blood from her arms. She trembled uncontrollably.

She didn't know. She _couldn't_ know – that was the worst part. There was no way to know for sure. But she wanted to know; she _needed _to. Not knowing was like not being able to see where everyone was; it meant that somewhere, below the surface, where she wasn't looking, things might be happening – things she couldn't control – and then everything might come undone. And that couldn't happen. It _couldn't_. The idea of it filled Azula with cold, hysterical, unbearable, crushing terror.

Her mother hadn't spoken for a long while. And the tapping sound had stopped now. Why was she so quiet all of the sudden?

"Azula," Ursa spoke up softly through the door.

Azula jumped at the sound of her voice – but an eerie giddiness passed through her. She got the feeling that her thoughts had somehow willed Ursa to speak. Perhaps Azula _was _still in control, after all.

"I'm still out here," Ursa said. "I haven't gone anywhere."

Azula didn't reply.

"See?" Ursa went on after a moment. "I told you, I'm not with the others. You have to believe me, sweetheart. I promise, I'm not going to do anything to you. Will you please let me in?"

"You're _still _asking to get in?" Azula tried to scoff, but her voice shuddered against her will. "Why don't you give it up already? I'm not letting you in here. You'll only ruin everything."

"No, I only want to talk to you," Ursa insisted. "How many times do I have to say it? I've been sitting out here for such a long time – "

"Why haven't you left yet?"

"You... you told me to stay."

Azula frowned, still watching the hole, and shook her head fiercely. "No, I didn't," she argued. But she wasn't sure.

"Yes, you did, darling. Don't you remember?"

"But – why would I ask you to stay?" Azula stammered fiercely, trying very hard to convince herself that she was right. "You – you're just trying to confuse me again."

"No, I'm not," Ursa said gently. "I promise, I'm not. You asked me to stay here so that you knew I wasn't talking to the others. And look – I'm still here. I'm not going to leave you, no matter what. But it's raining now, and I'm cold. Could I please come inside?"

One of the officers in the room suddenly spoke, whispering very tentatively, "You _did _ask her to stay."

Azula fixed him with a glower savage enough to incinerate him on the spot, and she raised her hand to do what her eyes couldn't on their own. The man flinched, bracing himself for the fiery punishment.

But Azula hesitated; her mind whirred and snapped frantically, scattered and discordant and uncertain.

So he knew Ursa was there. He could hear her too.

Then all of them must know. All of them must have known she was there, this entire time. Just as Azula dreaded.

Her heart pounded in a wild, bewildered frenzy.

That proved it, then. Her mother really was there. It was really her.

Quivering violently, Azula dropped her hand and fell back against the wall, beside the broken window, and the rain poured over her, and she breathed and breathed and breathed.

"Azula?" Ursa said again.

Azula grasped at her hair, yanked on handfuls of it so brutally that a few broken strands came loose in her fingers. She felt as if she'd been struck with an earthquake – a foundation-shattering kind of quake. The way her mother kept saying her name made her livid and hysterical. She suddenly blazed with a consuming, raging desire to run outside and punish her mother for existing, to _make _her stop talking, stop talking to her, leave her alone once and for all.

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Azula suddenly darted across the room, towards the door, and began to shove aside the heap of crates, chairs and equipment that she'd piled in front of the door. At last, she made just enough room to open the door, and pried it open fiercely. She thrust out her fist, poised to launch a stream of violent flames directly into her mother's face.

Ursa jumped back in surprise, and stood there, panting, gaping at Azula's fist as it trembled just inches from her nose. She could feel bursts of heat radiating from Azula's knuckles, but the flames didn't come immediately.

For a few seconds, Azula wrestled with the urge to incinerate her mother right there – to destroy her and make her stop being real, so that order could be restored and everything could go back to normal. And Ursa merely focused on breathing, slowly, carefully – transfixed on her daughter's fist, frozen to that spot in the falling rain. She closed her eyes and grimaced, waiting for Azula to hit her with a deadly barrage of fire.

But Azula didn't. And she didn't know why. And that only added a new layer to her bewilderment and paranoia.

"What are you carrying?" Azula demanded suddenly, quivering with rage and confusion. "You've got weapons, don't you? You want to kill me?"

"No, no," Ursa stammered breathlessly. "I'm not carrying anything. See? Nothing in my hands."

"Empty your pockets."

Ursa went through her pockets, her shoes, all the places where anything might be concealed, showing Azula that she had nothing – nothing but the necklace she'd found on the deck a couple of mornings before. Azula snatched the necklace from her hands, looked it over, then gave it back.

"Come inside," she finally said, lowering her fist at last and stepping aside to allow Ursa to come in.

Ursa blinked in astonishment for a moment, as if she couldn't believe Azula was actually letting her in; then she let out a slow, shaky breath, and stepped quickly inside before Azula changed her mind. And Azula shut the door behind her, and replaced the barricade in front of it, then hastily resumed her post at the window. She'd spent far too long not watching already, and felt even more furious at her mother for distracting her so much.

Ursa lingered by the door, letting her eyes wander over the room, taking in the sight of the captured officers, the navigation instruments, the dead bodies that Azula had left on the floor. She shuddered violently, and, strangely, two small tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks.

"What are you crying about?" Azula snapped at her impatiently, still shaking uncontrollably despite her efforts not to. "I thought you wanted to come in."

"Oh, I did, I – " Ursa shuddered again, brushing her hands across her face and collecting herself. "Thank you for letting me in."

"Just as long as you stop bothering me."

"Azula," Ursa said carefully, "we need to talk."

"Haven't we been talking?" Azula scowled. "What else could you possibly have to say to me that you couldn't say outside the door?"

Azula had once again taken up her post by the window, fixing her eyes on the hole in the deck, where no one was. Ursa watched her, and stepped carefully across the room – and all the officers watched Ursa, with expressions that wondered if she was there to liberate them, or if she was going to do anything at all. But Ursa didn't meet any of their eyes. She instead let her gaze drift across the equipment, and finally spotted the communication device, near the helm.

"Is it really necessary for you to keep these poor officers tied up like this?" Ursa asked quietly, walking across to the helmsman and examining the chains around his hands. His face had been severely burnt, she saw – boiling red blisters swelled across his left cheek. He watched her carefully.

"Don't touch them!" Azula shouted ferociously, turning a piercing glare upon Ursa, trembling, and beginning to regret now that she'd let her mother inside. "Get away from him right now! You go anywhere near any of them, and I'll kill you right now! Understand?"

"I wasn't going to do anything," Ursa said quickly, calmly, backing away from the helmsman and raising her hands in surrender. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Azula, I promise."

"Well, stay away from them," Azula commanded her again, still clawing nervously at her hair. "Just stay in one place, and don't cause any trouble. You wanted to be in here so badly – don't make me chain you up too."

"I'm sorry," Ursa said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

As Azula turned her eyes anxiously back to the hole down below, Ursa hastily reached for the communication device, and flipped the little switch beside the speaker tube, stepping quickly, casually away from it.

"I just want to talk," she said.

* * *

><p>"<em>I just want to talk<em>," Ursa's voice drifted faintly over the speakers.

Everyone down below immediately jumped to attention at the sound.

In one of the ship's storage rooms, Iroh – who'd been waiting there for several hours now with Suki, Yonten, Ashiro and a number of Ashiro's soldiers – sat up and gave them all a grave look.

"It's time," he said.

Suki nodded at him, then glanced at Yonten. "Ready?"

Yonten rose to his feet wordlessly, stepped behind a pile of crates, and re-emerged carrying a long, crudely-fashioned staff: a new glider that he'd cobbled together during the long waiting period, out of materials in the ship. He looked at Suki and nodded.

* * *

><p>"<em>I just want to talk<em>."

The sound of Ursa's voice suddenly crackling over the speakers revived Toph from a delirious stupor. She hadn't been asleep, really, though unconsciousness had been creeping up on her here and there during her time up in the air. But not asleep – just elsewhere. Her attachment to reality had deserted her, for some indeterminate amount of time (minutes? hours? days? decades?). It came and went now – reality did. Mostly it went.

"_Then talk_," said a voice that sounded like Azula's.

Toph wondered if she was imagining the voices. They didn't seem real to her. Then again, nothing felt all that real to her now – except the rain, which she suddenly noticed was falling, drizzling over her, reminding her that she still existed. She was still hanging up here in the air, still blind, helpless, hungry, weak, and throbbing with a numb pain more thorough and pervasive than she'd even thought possible. Her arms had lost all feeling long ago, and her head felt as if it were going to burst, and her lungs labored for air. And now, she realized, she was also cold. Very, very, unbearably cold. She couldn't feel her bare feet anymore, thanks to the cold. She'd lost her arms, and now her feet – what was next? She was nothing but a torso, tied up on strings, beating with a heart that had to toil desperately just to get its usual job done.

"_It's been so long since I left_," Ursa's phantom voice went on, in a hazy dream. "_What happened to you in all that time, Azula? Tell me everything. I want to know._"

"_You want to know? You want to know what you missed out on?_"

"_I want to know everything. I just want you to talk to me._"

Was something actually happening now? Or was she just imagining it? Toph had long ago lost the energy to wonder when something was going to happen. She'd started to accept the idea that the others might no longer even exist – that maybe they'd never existed – that maybe her entire life had only been a happy, delirious dream, some feverish fantasy brought on to escape the horrible reality of hanging up here in these ropes, without relief.

"_There isn't much to talk about, really_," Azula's voice replied. "_But maybe if you'd been here, you wouldn't have to ask._"

It was getting colder now, Toph's thoughts observed, with faint indifference. It was colder than it was before. They must be getting close to the North Pole now.

Well, that was all right. The North Pole was probably a nice place. And at least something would happen when they got there. At least this nightmare would end, one way or another. She didn't much care _how _it ended at this point – just that it ended.

"_I'm sorry_," Ursa's voice sighed faintly. "_I'm so sorry for leaving you, sweetheart. I didn't want to, you know. I just didn't have a choice._"

Toph resented the rain, though – and she resented those disembodied voices. She resented them for reminding her that she still existed. She would have preferred to remain forgetful until this was over.

* * *

><p>"<em>I don't care<em>," Azula's voice scoffed through the speakers. "_It made no difference to me that you left. Honestly, nothing really changed._"

Down at the small opening in the side of the ship, near the bow, where the anchor hung from its thick chain, two figures silently waited and listened.

Suki shivered in the icy wind that drifted inside, but she braced herself against it, glancing out through the narrow space beside the anchor. The side of the ship dropped steeply down to the frigid, choppy waves below. She looked up, and saw the edge of the upper deck and the railing far above.

Behind her, Yonten waited, fastening a small pouch at his waist, shouldering a thick blanket, and clutching his improvised glider tightly. Silently, they both listened to the voices crackling over the speakers, both breathing anxiously and feeling the frantic pounding of their hearts.

"_I think you do care,_" Ursa said softly.

"_Oh, fine. If that makes you feel better, then sure. I cared. But it makes no difference now, does it?_"

"Here, give me the thing," Suki whispered to Yonten, though she had no real reason to whisper.

He frowned at her for a second. "The thing?"

"You know, the _thing_," she said impatiently, waving her hand. "The hangy-uppy-thing we made. You brought it, right?"

"Oh, that." He shook his head distractedly. "I was afraid you meant something else."

"_Azula, you know I didn't want to leave, don't you?_"

Yonten reached down, picking up the "hangy-uppy-thing" from where he'd dropped it at his feet: it was nothing but a very long rope with two iron bars tied at either end. He coiled it into a manageable bundle and handed it to Suki.

"Are you certain you can hold on to it?" he asked her.

She nodded swiftly. "You've got enough to carry already. I'll hand it to you once we're up there."

"_That's nice, mother. Really. Now tell me the truth: you _were _a little relieved, weren't you?_"

There was a long silence over the speakers. Suki and Yonten held their breaths and listened.

"_What do you mean? Why would you think that?_" Ursa finally spoke. It was difficult to tell whether her voice was wavering with emotion, or if it was just the effect of the communication system.

"_You don't want to answer, do you?_" Azula scoffed, and her disdain was clear even through the metallic reverberations of the speakers. "_You're afraid. You're ashamed of it, aren't you? Well, it doesn't matter. I already know. I've always known._"

"_Azula, I don't know what I did to make you – I don't know what you must think about me, but it's all wrong. Please, believe me, darling. I love you. Of course I didn't want to leave you – _"

"_But you didn't even bother to say good-bye when you left... Did you say good-bye to Zuko, mother?"_

Another, even longer, silence followed. The speakers buzzed with speechless tension.

"_What did you tell him, when you said good-bye?_" Azula finally spoke again, and her voice was shockingly soft – subdued and bitter.

"_Azula, please understand – _"

"_I already understand, mother. You thought I was a monster back then, and you think I am now – "_

"_No, I – "_

"_And you're right. I am... You were sad to leave Zuko. Zuko's so _good, _isn't he? But not me. I'm the one who scared you. You always feared me. Some part of you was relieved that you wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. Admit it – isn't that right?_"

"_It was different with you. You didn't need... Your father always – "_

"_Oh, father! You want to bring _him _into this? Well, let me tell you about father. You know what he is? He's nothing but a powerless, useless failure. He thought he was the greatest in the world. _I _thought he was the greatest in the world! But in the end, all his power meant nothing at all. Nothing! In the end it was just gone, just like that, and everything he ever was was nothing!... And, really, you know, I don't think it ever actually meant anything to begin with..._"

"I really hope she can pull this off," Suki whispered suddenly, trying not to let her doubts overwhelm her.

"I only hope nothing happens to her up there," Yonten said in a hush, closing his eyes. "Who knows what Azula might do once she realizes what's happening?"

Suki glanced at him. "It'll be all right," she said, though she sounded far from certain.

"_Are you talking about your father or yourself, Azula?_" Ursa's voice asked carefully.

"_Oh, don't pretend like you understand me. You think you have some great insight into me, just because you're my mother? You don't know anything about me. You've never understood me, and that's why I scared you. That's why I scare everyone... Father was simple – he controlled people with pain and death and destruction. The problem was, people always resist their own destruction... But do you know what's more powerful than that? You know what destroyed father, don't you? The power to take away someone's self, to strip them of everything that defines them, and make them want to destroy themselves... That's what really does it. Father learned that the hard way. But not me – I'm stronger than father was, see? I know who I am. I came through that, and now I'm here. I'm the monster, and that's what I want to be... That's what I've got, understand? And if you think you can change that just by coming back after all these years and_ talking_ to me... I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed, mother."_

Both Suki and Yonten couldn't help but listen to Azula's speech with morbid fascination. Suki shuddered suddenly, and Yonten looked at her anxiously, but didn't say anything.

After a moment, she glanced at him again, and put her hand on his shoulder, trying to feed some encouragement into him – and, by doing so, to make herself feel more confident about all this as well.

"I'm sure Ursa will be all right, Yonten," she said at last. "As long as everything goes according to plan."

He nodded slowly, letting his eyes fall to the ground pensively. Then he looked up at her again, with a feeble attempt at a wry smirk. "Wouldn't it be awful if this glider didn't fly?"

She couldn't help but chuckle – there was nothing else to do, in the face of this situation. "Honestly, there are a lot worse things that could go wrong," she said. "But yeah, I really hope it flies."

* * *

><p>"<em>Azula, you can't do this! You can't treat other people this way! You can't treat yourself like this! You don't have to be a monster.<em>"

"_But that's who I am. Who else would I be?_"

The great hole in the deck was empty, and the rain fell down to the metal floor below. But out of sight, in the dark corridors, watching the rain fall through the hole, listening to the two voices coming through the communication system, Iroh stood silently, grimly, with Ashiro and his soldiers. They were all crowded in the corridors, hidden from sight, waiting to emerge. Waiting.

"_And what about when you're done, Azula? When you've driven everyone to their own destruction? What will you have then, when there's no one left?_"

Azula paused for a long while.

"_Then I'll have won,_" she finally answered, but her voice seemed to waver a bit. "_That's what I'll have. That's all I need._"

"So," Ashiro whispered to Iroh, "when she gives the signal...?"

"We still wait," Iroh replied quietly. "We wait for Suki and Yonten."

"Shouldn't we use the opportunity to get as many of us outside as we can?"

Iroh shook his head solemnly. "If we all come out at once, Azula will realize what's going on. And if she panics, that could be the end for Toph, and for all of us. We must wait until the threat is removed. Then Azula will have no more control, and we will be free to do whatever we need to."

"_Is that really enough? Is that really what you want?_" Ursa's voice went on softly. "_Are you sure?_"

"_Of course I'm sure._" But her voice trembled again, more noticeably.

"_I don't think you are." _Ursa spoke very gently, tenderly. "_This isn't who you are, darling. You aren't a monster. That's who you've chosen to be. But you can choose differently._"

"_What other choice do I have?" _Azula demanded – a bitter, broken, genuine question. "_No! – I don't want to choose differently. This is who I am. I don't want to be anything else..._"

Ashiro sighed anxiously. "I only hope nothing goes wrong."

Iroh nodded. "Me too."

"_Haven't you always known, mother? Didn't you know from the beginning that I was a monster?_"

* * *

><p>"You're hurting yourself, sweetheart," Ursa whispered, gazing at Azula with tears in her eyes.<p>

Azula was pulling at her hair again, and scratching at her skin again, without thinking, still staring at the vacant hole down below. Ursa could see bits of her torn hair falling from her fingers, drifting to the ground.

"Please don't do that to yourself," she urged her, when Azula didn't reply. Carefully, she stepped forward and reached out for her daughter. When her fingertips brushed against Azula's scratched arm, Azula flinched – but she didn't shout or push her away. Exhaling slowly, Ursa reached for Azula's hand – the one that was tearing at her hair – and gently held it, coaxing her fingers away from her hair.

Azula's eyes shifted slightly, but she didn't look at her mother.

"You used to have such beautiful hair," Ursa breathed, tears rolling down her cheeks. For a moment, as she gazed at Azula, she saw once again the beautiful, talented, precious little girl that had been hers years ago, still hidden beneath that wild and frightening exterior. Ursa almost absentmindedly combed her fingers through the ragged tangle of Azula's hair, brushing strands of it out of her face. And Azula simply stood there and let her, and didn't respond.

"When you were much younger," Ursa went on, with a very small, sorrowful smile, "you used to let me brush your hair and put it up for you. Do you remember that? It was a long time ago. You were still small – so small... Then one day, you wouldn't let me touch your hair anymore. You said you could take care of it on your own, and you didn't need me. And I never got it exactly the way you wanted it, anyway."

Azula finally took her eyes off the hole and looked at her then. And her expression was startlingly broken and vulnerable; and there were tears in her eyes. But she still didn't speak.

Ursa could feel her heart shattering in a million different ways, and her stomach churned a bit with the awareness of what she was doing. She suddenly despised herself immensely. But she didn't have a choice. She pressed on, forcing her thoughts to focus only on Azula, and not on herself.

"I never thought you were a monster, darling," she said, and her voice quavered and cracked, and an unstoppable deluge of tears lurked on the brinks of her eyes, poised to overflow. "I'm sorry – I'm _so _sorry if I ever did anything to make you think that about yourself. But that isn't who you are. That isn't you who have to be. You have it in you to be something better – I know you do... Azula. You know I love you, don't you? I always loved you. And if you didn't know that, then... then it's my fault for not showing it enough when you needed me to, and I'm so sorry."

She gently held Azula's face in her hands, and looked her in the eyes. And Azula stared back at her uncertainly, and suddenly choked, defeated by her own tears.

Ursa hastily gathered her daughter into her arms and held her tight, and Azula buried her face into her shoulder and began to sob quietly.

"Sh, sweetheart," Ursa breathed, shuddering with overwhelming sobs herself. "You're all right. You're all right. I'm here now."

The tears flowed freely, and she held Azula tighter. She brushed her fingers through her hair soothingly. She kept Azula's face carefully turned away from the window – carefully, carefully, pulled Azula away from the window, step by step – and held her, and hoped Azula would forget all else in the world, for now, for just long enough. And she held her, and cried with her, and hated herself, and hated herself.

"I'm so sorry," Ursa gasped, weeping helplessly, praying that Azula would know how much she truly meant it. "I'm so sorry, darling. Forgive me – forgive me, Azula. I love you... my beautiful girl. My beautiful girl, I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>"That was it," said Suki, darting a glance at Yonten. " 'My beautiful girl.' She said it twice. That was the signal. Let's go."<p>

Yonten hastily crawled out through the small opening beside the anchor's chain, wrapping the thick blanket around himself tighter so that it wouldn't fall. He pulled his makeshift glider out through the narrow space, and opened it up in the icy wind. For a brief instant, the wings got stuck halfway. But he quickly tapped it against the side of the ship, and then they conceded to open up the rest of the way.

Suki gave him a nervous look. "That's not a good sign."

"It will work," he insisted. "Hold on tight."

She adjusted the "hangy-uppy-thing," the tightly coiled rope with the iron bars at either end, around her shoulders securely, and then grasped onto his waist tightly as he sprang into the air on a burst of wind.

For a moment, the glider teetered and dipped precariously, and it looked as if they were both about to go careening disastrously into the churning waves. But Yonten quickly straightened it out, pulling upward, and soon they landed safely on the deck above, only a short distance away from the crane.

Once her feet were back on solid ground again, Suki released her grip on Yonten and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she quickly untangled the rope-contraption from around her shoulder and tossed it to Yonten.

"Hurry," she whispered anxiously. "Take care of her. But don't do anything to change her weight till I've gotten rid of the bomb."

"Please be careful," he urged her.

"I'll try not to blow us all up," she smirked, and the next instant she was on the crane, climbing nimbly up to the place where Azula had attached her bomb to it.

Meanwhile, Yonten took the hanging-contraption and the blanket, and took off into the air once more, soaring effortlessly out to the farthest end of the crane. His heart was racing frantically – his pulse pounded in his head – dreading with every passing second that Azula was going to realize that Ursa was only distracting her, that she would catch on to what was happening.

As quickly as he could, he took the hanging-contraption and lodged one of the narrow iron bars firmly through the metal grating of the crane. Then he let the other bar tied to the opposite end of the rope drop down. It fell far past where Toph was hanging, so he pulled up on the rope and adjusted it until it was about the right length, and carefully climbed down until he was perched on the bottom bar, within arm's reach of Toph.

Her eyes were closed, and her skin was pallid. Particles of frost had collected around her eyes and in her hair. She looked like she was already dead, and for a terrible second, he felt sick with panic.

"Toph!" he cried, reaching out and holding her face in his hands, hoping to revive her.

It took her a moment to respond, but then her eyelids fluttered faintly.

"Huh," she mumbled, feeble and distant. "Pipsqueak. Hey."

"We're going to get you down from here," he told her anxiously. "You're going to be all right, in just a second. But Suki has to take care of the bomb first."

"Something happening?" she murmured rather deliriously, and her mouth attempted to form a small smile. "About time."

"I'm sorry we took so long," he replied, with slight shame. "But it's going to be fine now."

Clutching his rope carefully, he extricated the thick blanket from around himself and wrapped it around her as tightly as he could manage, tying up two corners of it so that it wouldn't slip off of her.

"What's that for?" she muttered, frowning in dazed bewilderment.

"To keep you warm. Just in case – in case we can't – " he hesitated, grimacing a bit. "In case this doesn't work." He wished Suki would hurry and tell him that it was safe to get her down. "I, um – I brought you some food and water, too." Reaching into the pouch at his waist, he brought forth some bread and another small canteen of water. He gave her the water first – but she was too weak to move much, so he had to tip the water carefully down her throat.

She coughed and sputtered, but at least seemed to revive a little more.

"Suki!" he called over his shoulder impatiently. "What's taking so long?"

"Hey, this isn't as easy as you might think, okay?" she shouted back irritably – she seemed frustrated, and that worried him immensely. "You want us all to die in a horrible explosion? Don't rush me!"

* * *

><p>Ursa held Azula tightly, and for several minutes, the two of them merely wept with one another. The officers in the bridge were all watching them closely, but Ursa ignored them, focusing all her thoughts upon Azula. Her heart was pounding with dread and anxiety, and she could only pray that the others had all heard her signal, and pray that they'd be able to do what they needed to do while Azula wasn't looking.<p>

She only hated herself more with every passing second, with every new tear that fell from Azula's eyes. As if she hadn't done enough to harm Azula already, now this... What would Azula think, once she realized that the game was up? Once she realized that her mother had only been distracting her so that the others could regain control of the ship?

In just a few minutes, Azula would know. Azula would see what was going on. And when she did...

Honestly, if Azula killed her then, Ursa thought she could accept that.

"Azula, sweetheart," Ursa said tenderly, still combing her fingers through her daughter's tangled, torn hair. "No matter what happens from now on... I hope you remember that I always loved you. You'll remember, won't you? No matter what happens?"

Azula pulled away from Ursa and gave her a bitter look, her face stained with tears. "You're only saying that because you think you have to. Because I'm your daughter."

"No," Ursa protested, holding Azula's face in her hands and brushing her tears away. "I'm saying it because it's true. I love you, Azula. I do."

"But why should I believe you?" Azula argued faintly, still glaring resentfully at her. "I don't need you to love me, you know. You can tell me the truth. I'd rather know what you really think of me."

"I think," began Ursa, hesitantly – and she was miserably aware that she needed to draw this conversation out as long as possible, before Azula remembered to go back to the window – "I think you want me to tell you who you are, and you think you know what I'll say. And if I don't say it, then you won't believe me. But – Azula, you can't possibly understand how much I love you, and how much I wish you knew. I wish you'd believe me. If I'd known what you thought back then, before I left, I would have done a better job of making sure you understood."

* * *

><p>"<em>Why didn't you ever come back?<em>" said Azula's voice over the speakers, in an accusing tone. "_If you cared so much, why didn't you come back?_"

Suki's fingers were growing numb in the icy wind. Her heart was practically bursting out of her chest in her urgency to get this done. Once the bomb was gone, they could get Toph down. Azula wouldn't be able to hurt Toph anymore, and she wouldn't have the option of simply destroying the ship either. They wouldn't have to fear anything she did – all that would be left would be to take care of Azula herself. But it all depended on this.

"_Darling, I wanted to. I thought about you and Zuko every single day that I was gone. I missed both of you so much._"

It all depended on this. But Suki couldn't figure out how to dislodge the bomb from the crane, and from Toph's ropes, without setting it off. She'd had experience with Azula's explosives before – many times before. She'd felt confident that she could handle this one, if she only got close enough.

But now she was close, and she was stumped.

"_Don't lie. You missed Zuko. Just Zuko."_

Suki was stumped. The problem wasn't really that the bomb was complicated; it was that it was too simple. Crude, even. It was just an ordinary explosive – a fairly basic one that Azula often used – lodged into a crevice in the crane, but with one end of a thick scrap of metal pressing down on it, practically crushing it, keeping it from sparking and detonating. And the other end of the metal lever was attached to Toph's ropes, just as Azula had described. That was all it was, but it was so tightly fixed by Toph's weight pressing down on it, Suki didn't dare even try to budge the lever or the ropes without the fear of setting it off.

"_I missed _both_ of you. And I worried about you constantly. But I couldn't come back. I ended up in a place that was very difficult to leave. And I was afraid – "_

"_Afraid of what?"_

"Have you got it yet?" Yonten asked her again.

"Just give me a second!" Suki snapped, breathing on her fingers to warm them up, and hastily getting back to work on the bomb.

Meanwhile, up in the air, Yonten struggled to keep calm, certain that Azula was going to see them any second now. And he felt despicable, just hanging here beside Toph, yet doing nothing to get her down. He knew it couldn't be helped – not until the bomb was gone – but it was still agonizing.

"_Well,_" Ursa's voice went on reluctantly, "_I was afraid of what might happen to me if I came back. But mostly I was afraid of what you and Zuko would think of me, if you saw me again._"

"Is it time to go yet?" Toph murmured faintly, leaning her face into the folds of the blanket wrapped around her.

"No, not yet. But in a second."

"Can't feel my feet..."

He glanced down at her dangling feet, completely bare in the icy wind, and groaned with a sudden, overwhelming surge of frustration.

"I forgot you were barefoot!" he cried in distress. "I should have brought you some shoes, or something! How could I have forgotten about – ? I'm so sorry!"

" 's okay," she mumbled, with a frail attempt at a smirk. "I hate shoes."

"I know," he shook his head fiercely. "But you need something! If we can't get you down from here... Your feet..." They already looked frighteningly blue.

"Yeah, they're pretty cold."

Yonten growled. "I can't believe I didn't think of it! I'm such an idiot!"

She grinned feebly into the blanket, letting her eyelids close heavily.

"_What? You mean, because you killed grandfather?" _Azula's voice said, and she almost sounded like she was laughing dismissively. "_As if that really mattered. The old tyrant was bound to be killed by someone, sooner or later. Why should you worry about that?"_

"_I thought I was a monster too, Azula,_" Ursa said quietly. "_It took me a long time to realize that I wasn't. Or, if I was, that it didn't matter. I didn't have to live like one for the rest of my life."_

"Hey," Toph murmured, her voice muffled in the blanket. "In case I don't make it through this..."

"You will," Yonten insisted firmly. "Don't – "

"... Just wanted to say sorry for being kind of a jerk sometimes."

He hesitated, unsure how to reply, but desperately wishing she would stop talking as if it were already over, and even more desperately wishing that Suki would hurry up and tell him that the coast was clear, so he could get her down from here.

"_Well,_" Azula snapped sharply, but quietly. "_Good for you, mother. But I'm not like you._"

"Also," Toph muttered after a moment, her head lolling to the side wearily, her eyes closed as if she were talking in her sleep, "also... I think you're kinda cute, Pipsqueak. But it's not a big deal or anything."

He only gazed at her for a second, heart pounding, trying to think of something to say.

"_Azula – please, wait. Listen to me, don't – Azula, stop!"_

The air cracked.

The lightning bolt arched from the bridge to Toph in the blink of an eye, before anyone even realized what had happened. Toph screamed and jolted in pain, and Yonten was instantly thrown backwards by the force of it, almost crashing headfirst into the ship's railing. He saved himself at the last minute with a frantic gust of air, grasping at the railing desperately to keep from plummeting into the sea.

"_That's strike two!" _Azula bellowed furiously at them, shrill and wild with rage. "_Get back into the hole! Both of you! Or I'll kill her right now!_"

"Damn it! _Run!_" Suki screamed, racing frantically to pull Yonten back over the railing. She took off sprinting for the hole as fast as she could, barely breathing in her desperate haste, throbbing with terror that Azula would kill Toph if she didn't run fast enough. Every inch of her blazed with overwhelming frustration, fury that she hadn't been able to get rid of the bomb quickly enough.

When she reached the edge of the hole, she glanced back over her shoulder, and saw that Yonten wasn't behind her. He'd turned back to Toph, launching himself into the air on a whirlwind, aiming for the iron bar still dangling from the end of their hanging-contraption.

"Yonten!" Suki cried. "What are you doing?!"

But he wasn't listening. He only just managed to propel himself far enough to reach the hanging bar, and grabbed onto it, pulling himself up as quickly as he could, grunting with the effort.

"_Azula, stop! No!" _Ursa's voice roared through the communication device. The sounds of a fierce tussle echoed over the speakers, throughout the ship.

"_Get away from her, Airbender! Get back in the hole! NOW!"_

Hastily, he adjusted himself so that he was positioned directly between Toph and Azula, so that she couldn't hit Toph again without hitting him first. Then, awkwardly and frantically, he started to take off his shoes.

"_No! Azula, I won't let you – !"_

"_Let me go! – Leave me alone!"_

"What... what... you doing?" Toph rasped, shuddering and twitching from the lightning strike, and barely conscious.

But he didn't answer; he only quickly, quickly, slipped his first shoe onto her right foot, and the other onto her left, drawing them tightly around her ankles so that they wouldn't slip off.

"_Airbender, I'll kill you if you don't get away from her this second!"_

"_No! Don't hurt him! Please – I won't let you!"_

"_Let me go! LET ME GO!"_

"_Look! It's just shoes, Azula! He's just giving her shoes! That's all! He'll go – he'll go when he's done! He will! He just wants to give her shoes! At least let her have that! At least give her that, Azula!"_

There was a strange, sudden silence over the speakers then. But no more lightning bolts came.

He quickly finished with the shoes, barely breathing, and then said hastily,

"We'll think of something else soon. It'll be all right. Just don't give up!"

"... 'Kay," Toph whispered, barely audible, and a little tear fell from her eye. She was far too demolished to smile, though she wanted to. "You... really got guts, mister... Don't die, all right?"

He hesitated, physically hurting at the thought of leaving her up there any longer.

"All right," he finally said, shakily. "You too."

Then, with a last regretful look, Yonten hastily propelled himself back down toward the deck, racing towards the hole and leaping inside.

Suki was waiting at the bottom, and the two of them both collapsed to the floor, panting furiously, pulsing with adrenaline and aggravation. She put her arms around his shoulders for a moment, and then snarled fiercely at herself.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry I wasn't faster. I tried. I'm sorry. I should have been faster!"

He didn't say anything – he couldn't speak. Iroh and the soldiers emerged from the shadows then, staring at them both with expressions that ranged from burning frustration to utter despair.

But Iroh simply gazed at them both, and finally unleashed a weary sigh, closing his eyes tightly for a moment in bitter anger.

"It was a good attempt," he said softly. "We will think of something else. There's always something else... I only hope Ursa is all right."

* * *

><p>As Azula watched the Airbender race back to the hole and leap inside, she blazed with consuming fury, bewildered by the fact that she hadn't just killed him for defying her, and enraged by her own bewilderment.<p>

Once he was safely back in his place, she whirled on her mother and gave her a vicious blow across the face, knocking her to the ground hard.

The room spun before Ursa's eyes. She didn't bother getting up. She'd already accepted her fate.

But Azula didn't kill her, as she was anticipating. Instead, Azula ran to one of the crates that had been pushed in front of the door, and pulled out a bundle of chains, then strode back towards Ursa with a savage, violent gleam in her eyes. Pulling the woman up off the ground by her hair, Azula tied her up tightly with the chains, and finally shoved her aside with her foot.

Dizzily, miserably, Ursa gazed up at Azula. And Azula gazed back at her. Betrayal and regret passed between them, but neither of them spoke to one another any more.

Then Azula turned to one of the ship's officers, and, in a quivering shriek, commanded:

"Make it go faster! Bring up the speed! I want to be at the North Pole by tomorrow, do you hear me? Faster!"

* * *

><p><em>Hrm. This chapter makes me super depressed. <em>:'(

_Also, I have to confess, Azula's really hard to write. Hopefully I did a satisfactory job with this. I honestly put almost as much thought into her as I did into Koh, but she's still __much__ more complicated IMHO (mostly because she's actually human). Also, I really hope this chapter isn't too jarring... I've been trying to drop subtle glimpses into Azula's mind here and there before now, but I'm aware that she's been mostly just a dangerous phantom terrorizing the story up till now, so I really hope this feels natural and not just out of nowhere._

_Anyways, next chapter should be coming VERY soon!_


	38. The Face-Stealer

_Told you all it would come soon! (Sorry, dear **NoAlias**, I REALLY did want to try for another two-in-one-day thing again, but I had three classes to worry about and a huge presentation over a Victorian novel that I hadn't even started reading yet when I posted the last chapter, so... Yeah, I needed to cut myself off for a bit, lol)._

_Holy crap, I can't believe I'm actually uploading this chapter. I'm kind of amazed just at the title of it. *stares at title with gladness*_

_Well, anyway. Here we are, 32 chapters after Aang got his face stolen (geesh, this story's long!), and this is it. The moment we've all been waiting for..._

Mai: "What were we waiting for?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "This chapter! See the title?" :D<br>Mai: "Oh. Hm. I guess I'm a little out of the loop. You know, being dead and all." -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw, look, I'm really sorry about that whole death thing, Mai. It wasn't anything personal, I promise! I find you quite amusing as a character, and I think you and Zuko are delightfully awkwardly cute together." ^_^<br>Mai: *_sigh_* "And yet... you decided to kill me off. And not only that, I was the _first_ one to die. And off-screen, no less. Thanks, I really feel the love."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>sigh<em>* "Are you gonna be bitter about this for the rest of the story?"  
>Mai: "Hm... Nah. I'm not even really bitter now. I just enjoy pretending I am." *<em>smirk<em>*

* * *

><p><strong>THE FACE-STEALER<strong>

A sickly amber sky cast its nightmarish glare upon the mist that blanketed this distant end of the Spirit World. At the base of a massive dead tree, whose gnarled branches tangled together and choked out the eerie light, a set of rough stone steps descended, vanishing deep into the pitch dark mouth of a cavern among the roots. And, with Yue beside her, Katara stood, not yet ready to move. They both gazed gravely into that hungry darkness, for a very long time.

Katara was frightened, of course: unequivocally, absolutely so. it would have been unnatural for her not to be. But she could handle fear. What she was having difficulty with at the moment was the familiarity of the place – she'd been here before. She'd seen it in her many nightmares, though she hadn't known then what it was. She'd found Aang here a million times before; she'd uncovered his face to find it blank, again and again, in this place. She remembered.

And somewhere beyond that dark threshold, at this very moment, lurked Koh the Face-Stealer.

"Don't attack him right away," Yue was advising her quietly. "Wait for the proper moment, when you can catch him off guard. And make sure you know where you're going to run before you do anything else. Once he's after you... he won't stop."

"All right," Katara whispered, clutching Zara's small vial of poison - the same sickly color as that sky - in her trembling fists. She hesitantly slipped it into her pocket, hoping desperately that Koh wouldn't discover she had it.

"You'll also probably want to try to make him as aggravated at you as you can before you attack, so that he will really do anything to catch you," Yue went on in a grim hush. "But don't get your face stolen, of course."

Katara swallowed hard. "All right."

"And bargain with him. Don't let him catch on to the fact that you know how to defeat him. If he knows that _you_ know, you won't be able to lure him to the mortal world. He won't fall for it."

Katara just nodded without a word.

Yue solemnly reached out and touched her arm.

"You can do this, Katara."

"I know."

Then Yue pulled Katara quietly into a tight hug, and held her for a few seconds. "Please, _please _be careful."

"I'll try," Katara murmured, releasing a quivering breath. "Thanks, Yue."

Yue let her go, and nodded gravely. "I'll be waiting for you when it's over. Good luck."

And with that, her shimmering white form simply ceased to be there; she dissolved away, melting into the air, so quietly and subtly that Katara almost didn't realize it had happened until after she was gone, and the dusty weight of aloneness settled over everything.

And so Katara stood on her own before the entrance to Koh's lair, and breathed slowly and deliberately. She could barely believe that she was here, that this place was real. She could barely comprehend what she was about to do.

"Am I really going to?" she asked herself, in a cautious whisper.

_Yes, _her thoughts replied instantly. _Of course you are. You have to_.

"For Aang," she finished aloud, breathing again, extra slowly.

No emotion. No fear. Nothing.

She'd already played through every possibility in her mind, every horrible thought, every conceivable consequence of her entering this cave. She'd already imagined, in great detail, the entire scenario of Koh stealing her own face. She'd pushed herself through the terror, gotten it out of her system. All that was left was to be sure she was ready to see Aang.

Of course, there was no doubt that Koh was going to show her Aang's face. As soon as he knew why she'd come here, he'd bring out Aang's face, to draw a reaction from her. It was unavoidable. Katara knew that in a matter of minutes she'd not only be face-to-face with the monster himself, but also face-to-face once again with the one person that she'd been longing to see the most for the past five years. All with Koh poised to take her face at the slightest bit of emotion.

She told herself it was going to happen. She had to be ready. She tried persuading herself it was no big deal – simply an inevitable aspect of the coming encounter. And why should seeing Aang's face this time be any different than the million times she'd seen it before? It had just been awhile, that was all. Nothing to get worked up about.

And anyway, she'd be seeing his face around quite a lot again once this whole thing was over. This would just be the first of many ordinary times.

On top of that, too, it wasn't like it would _actually _be him. The actual him was back in Zara's garden right now. This would just be the Face-Stealer, impersonating him. She could handle that, right? She could wait and save her emotional deluge for after it was all over, when she saw the real Aang again, restored to himself, good as new. Which he would be, soon. Because she was _going_ to do this.

_I can do this_, she told herself, inhaling with fierce determination, and she believed it. _I _will _do this. For Aang._

Katara lifted her foot – took a step downward.

Then another. Then another.

Katara passed the threshold into the lair of the Face-Stealer, vanishing into the darkness.

Inside the cavernous space, shafts of a strangely cold white light burst through, though she couldn't tell from where. It wasn't from outside the tree, for the light out there had been warm and brown. Between the spaces of foggy light were patches of utter darkness. And where the shadows and the light touched, Katara could make out the twisted shapes of warped stone structures and gnarled tree roots, weaving together to create an eerie labyrinth of narrow corridors and cluttered chambers. Somehow the entire place simultaneously gave her a feeling of endless twisting space, and suffocating claustrophobia.

It didn't help that it was all so deathly silent that she could hear her own heartbeat.

Where was he?

The rough ground was clammy and severe against her bare feet. She willed herself to keep descending, deeper into the lair, fingering the small vial of poison in her pocket, scanning every inch of the place for any sign of the Face-Stealer – as well as anything that looked like it might possibly be the passageway to the mortal world that Zara had told her about. She stood tall, kept her back rigid and her eyes straight ahead. She fought against the instinct to imagine that every shadow was the Face-Stealer, lurking, ready to pounce. She kept her expression as still as stone, and told herself that there was nothing to fear. Nothing could happen to her, as long as she stayed calm.

She sensed the shadows shifting behind her.

Katara stopped walking – forced herself to breathe. Did not turn quickly, did not jump. Reminded herself again that she was safe, as long as she was calm. Looked around slowly.

She saw nothing there.

But she knew better. Koh was watching her, trying to frighten her.

Katara clenched her fists. She didn't have time for this nonsense.

"I need to speak with the spirit called Koh," she demanded, her voice ringing with a confidence that, amazingly enough, she truly felt at that moment.

"_What is this little thing, who so boldly enters my domain?_"

The voice was soft, soothing – even slightly effeminate – but also deep, and dark, and cold. Like the wind of a bitter South Pole midnight. It could soothe you into a sleep from which you'd never awaken.

Katara turned slowly in a circle, back towards the entrance, her eyes apathetically scanning the shadows around her. She still couldn't see the Face-Stealer, but his voice seemed to reverberate from every inch of the cavern.

"_It's quite rare, these days, that an ordinary human would seek me out purposefully__,_" said Koh. "_Especially in her... physical form._"

The uncanny feeling that a massive... something... was just behind her, peering over her shoulder, raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Katara breathed evenly. He was just trying to scare her. But she wouldn't let him. She managed to calm herself somewhat with the thought that at least the Face-Stealer was rather predictable.

As she was bracing herself to turn slowly around to face whatever it was that was behind her, suddenly the spirit's enormous black bulk skittered straight over her head, more swiftly than she could have imagined it could move, and the face of a hideous bluenose monkey screeched directly into hers, its wrinkled nose only inches from her own.

Katara's heart stumbled with slight surprise, but she didn't flinch. She stared at the monkey's face – and at the massive, repulsive, centipede-like body of the Face-Stealer – and at the dozens of enormous claws and pincers that twitched eagerly across the floor and walls of the cave. She blinked, with a calculated expression of unmoved indifference.

"You won't scare me," she declared matter-of-factly.

The monkey's eyes narrowed at her for a moment, and Koh's dark laughter trickled from its mouth.

"We'll see," said the Face-Stealer. The folds of thick, soft skin around the monkey's face suddenly rolled down – like a gigantic eyelid blinking – swallowing up the face with a fleshy squelching noise. When the skin folded back again, a new face emerged: the white theater mask that Katara knew from her dreams, with painted lips and eyes, wearing a patronizing smirk.

"You're a lovely young woman," Koh commented in a blasé tone, appraising Katara as if she were a piece of art up for sale. "It appears someone has already warned you about me. Never mind, though – what can I do for you, my dear?"

"You've taken something that belongs to me," Katara replied carefully, her expression distant, but her mind sparking and bristling and strategizing. She focused her eyes on a particularly unexciting area of the wall, rather than on the grotesque mass of Koh's creeping body as it circled her.

"Oh, I have?" Koh exchanged the white theater mask for that of a small boy, with round green eyes and an unnatural sneer – Katara tried not to wonder if it was the same boy she'd seen earlier in Zara's garden. "Well, you still seem to be in full possession of your own pretty face – for now, at least – so I can only assume, then, that you're here because I've stolen the face of someone you love?"

"That's correct."

Koh crawled along the walls and ceiling, hovering around her, watching her closely.

"It must have been someone very dear to you indeed, for you to come all this way," Koh went on, brushing one of his sinister claws across her shoulders. "No doubt a husband, or a lover?"

Katara exhaled. "That's correct."

Koh laughed, and his face changed into that of a white-bearded old man with sorrowful eyes that contrasted with the laughter in a particularly unsettling way.

"You mortals are _so _predictable," Koh sighed. "But I think you ought to know, pretty one, I've never yet given back a face that I've taken, in all my millennia of existence."

A few different responses passed briefly through Katara's mind. But she thought better of declaring that yes, in fact, she was aware. And she also thought it would probably be unwise to bring up anything to do with Zara or Avatar Tenzin. So at last she settled simply on:

"Well. I suppose there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

Koh laughed again, though there was a darker, hungrier tone that rang in it this time. The sad, pale eyes of the old man gazed distantly at her, and Katara wondered if the man had been blind. The idea of how his encounter with Koh must have been – what it would be like to meet Koh, to have your face stolen, without being able to see – made her skin crawl in a way that she wasn't entirely prepared for. She quickly distracted herself with the wall again, and maintained her dead expression. But she trembled a bit nevertheless, and Koh, of course, took notice.

"You hide your terror well," he smiled greedily, his voice almost a gentle whisper. "I admire that. Many of the most interesting faces in my collection are the ones that were the most difficult to get."

The hard, cold surface of one of the monster's claws brushed against her neck in the darkness. Katara suppressed a shudder, inhaled, then exhaled, then did it again, slower, thinking very hard about the air that passed into her lungs. For a few moments, she didn't allow herself to think of anything else.

"You do have such a lovely face," Koh commented again. "It would be a great pleasure to have it for my own."

"I'm afraid you'll have to miss out this time," Katara replied coolly. "I didn't come here to be added to your collection."

"No – and yet, you came here, knowing full well what I am."

He turned away from her, his entire insect-like body suspended from the tangled roots and stones of the cavern walls, his face gazing off into a beam of light. Katara took a deep breath – she couldn't waste any more time.

"I came here," she began, slowly and firmly, "to demand that you retur – "

"_DEMAND?!_"

A cruel, inhuman blue face with sharp teeth and searing eyes – no doubt the face of some malicious spirit – snarled directly into hers in an instant.

"I do not take orders from mortals, my dear!" Koh thundered furiously.

Katara's breath stopped for a moment, but her expression didn't budge. She began again.

"I demand that you – "

"You _request_."

"_Demand_."

Koh paused, the demon eyes scorching straight into hers, and Katara stared back, indifferent but undaunted. She kept the emotions at bay by focusing her thoughts on how long she could stare back at Koh without blinking.

At last, the wicked blue face broke into dark – very dark, and dangerous – chuckles.

"Very well," said Koh, softly – humoring her. "You _demand_."

Katara closed her eyes briefly, gathering her confidence once again. "I demand that you return the face of – "

"Oh, wait! Don't tell me," Koh interrupted her. "I want to guess."

The Face-Stealer circled her once again, his claws clacking and scratching against the walls and the floor and the ceiling. His centipede body twisted, and the fiery eyes of the monstrous blue face scrutinized her from every side.

"Let me think," he mused. "A young man, around your age... Perhaps?"

The blue face was swallowed up in his folds of flesh, reemerging as the face of a young-ish man with brown eyes and long black hair. His features were soft, and Koh flashed a kind, almost shy smile at her.

"Hm?" Koh raised the young man's eyebrows at her. "No? Not really your type? Let me see. Possibly, this one?"

The young man's face vanished, and was replaced by the bearded face of what looked like a middle-aged Fire Nation man with a grim expression.

"No?" Koh asked again, when Katara remained unmoved. "A bit too old for you, I suppose. What about...?"

His face changed to the dark-skinned features of a rugged young Water Tribe warrior. There was something in his blue eyes – a small spark of humor – that briefly reminded Katara of Sokka. She hastily pushed that thought out of her mind.

"No, no, wait," Koh said hastily, rolling the young man's eyes with a smirk. "It couldn't be him. That was quite a bit before your time. You wouldn't even have been a child then..."

Suddenly, the Face-Stealer gazed off into the distance, with a pensive look. Katara couldn't tell if he was really, genuinely trying to guess who it was, or if he already knew and was merely playing with her. But he murmured softly, "Hm, a child..." As if an idea had suddenly struck him.

"Do you give up?" Katara asked, anxiety stirring in her stomach, though her dull tone and empty eyes betrayed nothing.

The Face-Stealer didn't reply immediately. He wandered off a space, the stolen blue eyes still distant with contemplation, and turned his back to her. After a moment, he suddenly burst into loud, confident, delighted laughter.

Katara braced herself.

"Oh, my dear," Koh crooned with great relish. "You wouldn't happen to be here for the face of the young Avatar, now would you?"

As the last few words of his inquiry eagerly echoed into the darkness, Katara found herself staring directly into a pair of devastatingly familiar gray eyes. Aang's face broke into a grin, inches from her own.

She'd thought she was ready, but she wasn't.

After five years of seeing his face only in dreams, here it was, entirely unchanged, attached to this monstrosity. She'd imagined it would look different somehow. That somehow, the expression would be cruel and alien, belonging to Koh, even if the face itself didn't. That the eyes that stared back at her wouldn't actually be Aang's, wouldn't have the same life. But they were just as alive and vivid and Aang-ish as she remembered.

An instant, crushing surge of emotion rolled over her like a hurricane, leaving her all in ruins.

Katara trembled head to toe. She stopped breathing, blinked several times. Koh watched her hungrily, waiting for her to crack. But somehow, even as she stared directly into Aang's stolen eyes, her blank expression kept steady, didn't falter.

"Yes," she finally managed to whisper, her voice broken and small. "That's correct."

Koh's dark laugh burst uncannily out of Aang's mouth, and he smiled sideways at her, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, eyes glinting deviously.

Katara remembered that smile. It was the way Aang smiled when he thought he was being very clever - especially while playing games, or haggling (which, of course, he'd always thought he was very clever at).

And a dozen vivid memories flooded back, in the blink of an eye. She was astonished by how specifically she could identify his expression, especially after five years. She really missed his terrible haggling skills – he was so adorable – damn it, she missed him _so much_ –

_No! Stop that!_ she reprimanded herself fiercely. _You'll never survive this if you start thinking like that._

But a strange new idea suddenly flashed through her mind. It was the wrong expression – Aang wouldn't smile like that here, right now – it wasn't the right kind of smile. Koh wasn't using his face correctly.

The idea was simultaneously surreal, nauseating and infuriating, and Katara was suddenly seized by an icy chill of rage. All these thoughts raced through her mind in a split-second – all triggered by that single expression – and she struggled against the overwhelming urge to cry or scream or even move a single muscle. Because she knew if she allowed herself to move, to even twitch a finger or bat an eyelash, that would be the end. She wouldn't be able to hold back the emotions. The dam would break, and the flood would come rushing out. Her only defense now was to keep her finger in the dam, keep perfectly still, not budge for even an instant.

Koh was circling her now, his long talons scraping against the stone walls and floor. He was scrutinizing her with mocking amusement, wearing Aang's stolen grin.

"So," he murmured softly, "you are the Avatar's love, are you? Of course you are. Though I have to admit, I was expecting to see you much sooner than this, if you came at all. What took you so long?"

Katara didn't reply. She refused to allow herself to feel guilty. She was here now, after all. That was all that mattered.

"I'm glad you're here, though," he went on, when she didn't say anything. "I've been curious for some time now – what did you _do _to him?"

She hesitated, heart palpitating; but she didn't allow her face to show it. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he was a complete wreck when I found him," Koh said, contorting Aang's face into something of a bewildered pout. "Spiritually speaking, I mean. Did you break his heart, dear? You must have broken it quite thoroughly."

Katara shut her eyes, unable to look at Aang's face. The Face-Stealer's words hit her like a brutal splash of icy water, like a blow directly to the stomach. She struggled not to be overwhelmed, struggled to distract herself with something else – the darkness of her closed eyelids, the tension in the muscles of her face, the sound of her own slow, steady breathing.

_Don't let him manipulate you_, she commanded herself, exhaling slowly, forcing herself to relax. _You've come all the way here to save Aang. You've got nothing to feel guilty about. He's only playing with you._

"I suppose I ought to thank you, if you did," Koh mused nonchalantly. "It did make it much easier for me to catch him off guard... What, all silent? You don't have anything to say to me now?"

"Not at the moment."

Koh laughed again, softly, and circled round her once again. "You know, I might have guessed who you were the moment you walked in here. I actually once stole another face rather like yours. The face of another Avatar's love."

Koh's flesh folded over Aang's face, and the face of a beautiful young Water Tribe woman appeared in its place. Her eyes were gentle, and her hair fell in dark tresses around her cheeks. Katara recognized the girl's face – she'd seen it before in her dreams.

"Avatar Kuruk has hunted me for centuries, trying to save her," Koh went on, smiling. Her smile was kind; but traces of Koh's cold disdain lurked in her eyes.

"Ummi," Katara said, in a deliberately detached voice, though she scarcely dared to open her mouth enough to speak. "That was her name."

"I suppose it might have been, yes," Koh sighed, apathetic. Ummi's blue eyes gleamed at Katara. "You do share a bit of a resemblance, don't you think?"

Katara stared blankly back into the eyes of Kuruk's lost love.

"If you say so," she replied after a moment, matching Koh's apathetic tone.

"Perhaps that was why your little Avatar took such a liking to _you_, hm?" Koh mused, changing back once again to Aang's face. "He remembered her."

The vague awareness that she didn't much like that idea stirred within her briefly, but she refused to fully consider it, instead redirecting her thoughts to the dust particles that floated in the light.

"And now," Koh continued, "now you've come here on your own, to save _him_. Just perfect."

He said it in a tone of mocking amusement, but Katara thought she detected hints of deep bitterness – even slight paranoia – in his inflection. Perhaps he was thinking of Zara.

Katara swallowed carefully, strategizing. She could tell he was already quite displeased with her; but not enough, perhaps. She had to make him hate her, so that he would chase her, no matter where she went. Her hands drifted into her pocket, clutching at the vial of poison.

It wasn't time yet. Where was she going to run? Her eyes scanned the cavern inconspicuously, searching for anything significant, something that looked promising for her escape. But she didn't see anything yet - she'd have to keep talking.

"I'm not leaving here without his face," she declared.

"No?" the Face-Stealer sneered, and the subtle, biting anxiety became just barely more noticeable than before. "And how long do you suppose you can last?"

The monster's massive centipede body wriggled, dangling from the roots and tangles of the cavern roof, as he hovered and circled her covetously. "I would very much like to have your face for my own," he said, scrutinizing her intensely with Aang's eyes. "It would be with the young Avatar's face until the end of time, if that would be any consolation to you."

"No, thank you," Katara replied softly, ignoring the chill that tingled in her spine. "That would be very... unacceptable to me."

Koh cackled contemptuously, smirking in a particularly un-Aang-ish sort of way.

"Oh, of course," he sighed in a bored tone. "All you humans are the same. You'd rather take him home with you, live a long life and grow old with him. Is that it? But what _is _the great appeal of that? With me, your face – and his – they'll always be as they are now. Young and perfect. Why do you want to waste such treasures by throwing them away on mortality, which will only ruin them?"

The very un-Aang-ish sneer had vanished now, and something about the way he stared at her now – earnestly, almost sadly, beseechingly – was suddenly much _too _Aang-ish. Specifically, far too similar to the last broken-hearted look Katara had ever seen on Aang's face. She wasn't sure if Koh somehow knew how to most effectively toy with her, or if it was merely a coincidence. Either way, she could feel a storm of emotions – fury, despair, self-loathing, crushing grief – brewing dangerously inside her. So she spoke quickly, firmly, decisively, and (most importantly) as if she'd not been listening to a word the Face-Stealer had said.

"If you won't give back Aang's face," she declared, "then I'm going to have to kill you."

The Face-Stealer exploded: he roared thunderously, clawing so rapidly and furiously at the cave walls that large chunks came loose and fell to the ground near Katara. And his expression of pure rage was so utterly hideous that, for a moment, the face barely looked like Aang's at all.

"_KILL ME!_" he bellowed ferociously, baring Aang's teeth into Katara's face and twitching his talons around her, as if he wanted nothing more than to rip her to shreds and devour her right then and there. "You insignificant speck of dust! How _dare _you make such a brazen claim directly to my face!"

Koh's expression was now one of such dark rage – so absolutely unlike any expression Aang himself would ever make – that Katara found herself astonished that his face was even capable of pulling it off at all. But, though it was eerie, it was easier to handle than the familiar expressions, the ones she'd seen Aang make himself in the waking world. Koh's fury was, somehow, significantly less unsettling than his more subtle manipulations. And his rage was all a show, an empty threat. He couldn't hurt her, as long as she remained calm.

Katara looked back into Aang's furious eyes, cool and undisturbed.

"But I didn't say it to _your _face," she couldn't help but retort softly, trying not to feel too pleased with herself.

Koh glowered, venom in his stare. "If you were planning on killing me, then why didn't you simply do it?" he demanded, his indignant anger smoldering at her through Aang's eyes. "Why waste all this time _talking_?"

Katara maneuvered through her thoughts gingerly. Koh knew very well that she couldn't just kill him any time she pleased. So why was he asking? – Surely he was trying to see what she knew – to discover if she understood the rules, if she actually had the ability to do what she claimed. But she couldn't let him know that. As long as he suspected she was making hollow claims, that she didn't know what she was doing at all – then maybe she might be able to catch him off guard.

"Well," she said carefully, "it didn't seem polite to just come in here and kill you. I wanted to give you a chance to give his face back first."

"Shall I remind you," he went on viciously, though his voice was more subdued now. "Avatar Kuruk has not managed to slay me for hundreds of years. How exactly do _you _propose to do it?"

Now he was just asking her straight out? He must really feel threatened. Katara felt a small burst of confidence at that thought.

"If you return Aang's face, then you won't have to find out," was her serene reply. She almost smirked, but fortunately caught herself before she did.

The Face-Stealer examined her for several long, silent minutes, and Katara stared calmly back into Aang's eyes, which never blinked or wavered. She couldn't help but feel, for the first time, that she actually had the upper hand in this little game; she could actually do this. Though she still didn't know how to get out of this place and back to the mortal world - but there had to be a way, somewhere around here. She felt sure she'd figure it out. She wondered what was going through the spirit's mind as he studied her. He seemed to be sizing her up, trying to ascertain what sort of an opponent she really was, exactly how much of a threat she actually posed.

Finally, Aang's stolen face broke into an uncanny sneer – not quite the expression Katara expected to see – and Koh unleashed a slow, malicious laugh.

"I do think you're bluffing, little one," he declared icily. "And you aren't very good at it, either. I don't believe you _can _kill me. I think you simply came here, driven by the impulses of your sad little heart, without any plans at all except to try to outwit me. I've met a hundred others like you before."

Katara paused tactfully. "Maybe," she said. "Maybe I am just bluffing. Maybe you've got me all figured out. Maybe I should just leave now while I still can, since there's clearly no chance I can actually do what I said."

But she didn't leave. She very decisively didn't leave. She stayed, staring coolly into the stolen eyes – trying to assert, with only her silent steadiness, that she had no intention of leaving, and that perhaps he might not have her quite figured out after all. Koh scrutinized her emotionless expression with traces of annoyance in his own.

"You think you're quite impressive, don't you?" he asked suddenly. "I must admit, you _are _interesting. You've taken me by surprise. And I haven't been taken by surprise in a few hundred years."

"Don't change the subject," Katara said, perhaps a bit too boldly, careful to keep her expression empty and not get carried away by her own overconfidence. "Are you going to give Aang's face back or not?"

"Such a brave front," Koh laughed again, ignoring her demand and pensively circling the roof of his cavern once again. "You are a bit more reckless than your little Avatar ever was. Did he tell you, he once came to me himself, much like you've done today?"

Katara blinked, sidetracked by that little bit of information. She wasn't entirely surprised, although Aang had never spoken of Koh; and she was intrigued despite herself. The Face-Stealer had his back turned to her now, looking distantly off into one of the endless corridors of his labyrinthine realm, into a passage flooded with that strange, icy white light.

"He was only a child then," Koh went on. "Came boldly marching into my lair, demanding knowledge of the Moon and Ocean Spirits."

"During the Siege of the North," she whispered to herself, furrowing her brow slightly at the realization.

Koh whirled on her. Her face was blank as stone.

He glared carefully at her for a second, narrowing Aang's eyes, but she did not allow her blank face to waver. At last, he turned away again – and Katara exhaled very, very slowly.

"He managed to escape with his face then, as I'm sure you surmised," Koh finished his story wryly. "It was a shame, really. I would have loved to have the face of a child Avatar. It's so rare to meet them when they're that young, you know. Still – "

He circled back around, coiling his massive body closer and closer around her, and bringing Aang's face down to hover teasingly around her shoulders.

"Still," he said, and gave Katara one of Aang's most well-used lopsided grins, "I am quite satisfied with the one I got. There is still something delightfully... _innocent_ about it. Something in the eyes. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?"

Aang smiled sweetly at her, gazing into her eyes deeply and affectionately. His own gray eyes shimmered despite the cavernous shadows, illuminated with a simple, joyful light of their own. Her heart unexpectedly tumbled, pierced straight through the core by that look. It hit her like a lightning bolt. She could almost hear the voice that went with it, asking her to dance or go penguin sledding, telling her she was beautiful, confessing that he loved her. Asking her to marry him.

Katara again felt like she'd just had the wind knocked out of her. But she fought to keep her muscles estranged from her emotions, and her expression remained unchanged. Unfortunately, Koh must have sensed her moment of weakness, because he circled her again, and Aang's innocent smile was suddenly tainted by a trace of cruel hunger. Her short-lived advantage in the game had slipped through her grasp, and now Koh had her at his mercy once again.

"He was something rather special, wasn't he – this Avatar?" Koh asked softly. "Tell me, dear – how long has it been now, in that mortal world of yours, since you last saw his face? Three, four years? Five?"

Katara only stared forward into nothing, her expression utterly dead as she struggled to remove her mind from the situation, to imagine herself elsewhere, to separate herself from her own body –

"How long since you last heard his voice?" he went on without mercy, hovering so near to her own face that Aang's nose brushed against hers, and a shudder crept down her spine. "How long has it been since you last looked into these eyes, the way you are now? Hm? Is it hard now, to see him like this?"

Katara just breathed, and breathed, and breathed. She closed her eyes, and kept them closed, careful not to move another muscle. Her hand trembled in her pocket, once again closing tightly around the small vial of Zara's poison.

_Not yet,_ her mind insisted. _Keep calm. Wait for the right time. You can't mess this up._

"You know – " Koh was practically whispering now, and Katara could feel the greedy relish in his tone, "most of my victims scream when I take their face. But your little Avatar didn't. No, not at all. _Oddest _thing, really – he started talking. That almost never happens. He kept on muttering to himself the entire time, almost as if he was unaware of what was happening, as if he'd slipped off into some kind of dream, or hallucination..."

Katara kept her eyes closed still, commanding her mind not to think about Koh's words – not to process what he was saying – not to imagine the horrible moment when Aang looked into the Face-Stealer's eyes and realized his fate – not to wonder what it was like, what it would feel like, how much Aang must have felt when...

"Do you want to know what he said?" Koh breathed exultantly into her ear, so close that Aang's cheek brushed against her neck. "The very last words he spoke, while he still had a mouth to speak with?"

_No, _Katara thought feebly, feeling nauseous, clutching that vial of poison with all her might. But she didn't dare move, or open her mouth to speak. And Koh wouldn't have cared what she said anyway; this was his secret weapon, one he'd been waiting to use.

He leaned in closer still. Katara could feel Aang's lips on her ear.

"_Katara..._"

Her heart turned to ice.

"_Don't cry, Katara_."

Her limbs went numb. Paralyzed. She drew in a long breath with painful difficulty. She couldn't have opened her eyes if she wanted to.

Koh's delight was palpable. "That _is _your name, isn't it, dear?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice. "Katara?"

Katara didn't respond – she couldn't. Only struggled to escape – just a moment, that was all she needed – a small respite, deep within herself. She sought desperately for some kind of inner sanctuary, where she could recover without breaking her defenses –

In her pocket, her fingers were already opening the vial of poison, though her mind screamed _No! Not yet! It's not the right time! What are you going to do? You need to think this through! You only get one chance!_

But Koh was ruthless. He laughed maliciously and circled her with increased avarice, knowing she was already as good as his.

"At the time, I thought he was merely delusional, muttering irrational nonsense. But now – " The Face-Stealer laughed again, louder – "Now, it almost seems as if he'd had some kind of... _foresight_, there at the end. Isn't that curious? What do you think, Katara?"

His laughter reverberated through the cavern. Katara gritted her teeth.

"Yes," he crooned gleefully. "Whatever you do... _Don't cry, Katara!_"

Katara's eyes shot open, blazing with fury. She knew it wasn't the right moment – she had no idea what she was going to do afterwards – but she didn't care. With almost inhuman speed, she pulled Zara's vial from her pocket and hurled the contents at the monster's face.

– and the amber liquid burst out, and spilled over Aang's flesh, and into the mouth that was open in cruel laughter –

And Koh's laughter immediately turned into a furious roar, and he almost instantly convulsed, and a violent gush of black vomit heaved out through Aang's mouth.

And Katara was already running.

She was running, not back out the way she'd come, back into the Spirit World – there was no escape in that direction. She was running deep into Koh's dark, endless tunnels. Running faster than she'd ever run before, with no idea where she was going. And behind her, and around her, and within her bones, the Face-Stealer's agonized screams ripped and thundered. And Katara was running blindly in the darkness, fueled by unadulterated terror. And she could hear the scraping, clattering footsteps behind her, of Koh pursuing her with a murderous vengeance, shrieking and vomiting as he came.

The tunnels twisted on before her, weaving through shadows and light.

She was running, running – panting frantically – barely thinking –

He was coming. He was coming.

Her bare feet pounded, pounded, stumbled, lurched, flew, over the cold stone ground, over the tangled roots. Her hands scrambled at the walls. Her heart screeched hysterically, trying to claw its way out through her throat, through her chest. He was coming – he was coming – the terror – unfathomable, visceral terror – roared in her skin, blinded her eyes. She almost tripped over herself several times in her wild desperation to get away.

Where was she going?

He was coming – She could hear him just behind her – close, close, so close behind her –

His savage roars, his spasms of sickness, his clattering claws on the walls, the movement of his great centipede body through the tunnels behind her – right behind her – coming to devour her face –

Where was she going? _Where was she going?_

He would catch her in a second, before she even knew – she felt a strangled scream fighting to erupt from her chest, from the most primal depths of her muscles and nerves and blood.

She could hardly see where she was going, but she kept going forward. Was it the darkness, or was it the terror, that blinded her?

He was right behind her. His furious bellows made the walls shake around her. She wanted to look back, but she didn't dare to.

Where was she going?

She suddenly spotted one passage – one of the many passages – flooded with light. That same surreal, misty white light that didn't belong there. And a fragment of a thought occurred to her –

_Light._

_Run for the light. Don't stop._

That was it. She was supposed to run for the light. She remembered. Someone had told her that.

So she did. She skidded, changed direction – her bare feet slipped on the stones, and for the briefest second she felt herself losing her balance – her hands glided along the ground, grasping, pushing her up again, forward again – and the panicked scream finally burst out of her, and she pushed herself frantically forward towards the light – scrambled, lurched, raced toward the light.

She felt the bulk of the monster behind her, so close behind her, right on her heels, bearing down on her, still roaring with rage, still vomiting, coming for her, talons scraping the walls – those vicious claws that would rip her apart –

Katara ran down the endless tunnel, following it this way and that way, whichever way it led her – just forward forward forward – forward was all that mattered – forward through the light, as hard as she could.

He was coming, he was coming – coming coming coming coming –

Forward forward, into the light –

Don't stop, don't stop –

But the more forward she went, and the closer the Face-Stealer came, the more the light began to abandon her. The tunnel grew darker and darker as she ran, and Koh was coming – coming for her face – coming in a frenzy. She could feel him, she could hear him just behind her.

The sickly, unbearable, consuming terror rose in her, as the darkness began to overtake her. The most horrible thought she'd ever had in her life sprang up in her mind, burning icily through her veins: she'd run the wrong way. She'd run the wrong way. There was no escape. The light was leaving her. It was dark again. It was dark now. She couldn't see where she was going. This was the end – there was no escape –

Then she smelled something. Rain.

And all at once, a sudden opening appeared before her in the pitch dark cavern, and she was suddenly struck by a wall of pouring rain, and her feet screeched to an abrupt halt, nearly carrying her right off of a steep stone precipice.

She teetered on the edge for a second, careening, waving her arms to catch her balance and pull herself back from the edge, staring in bewilderment and amazement and terror.

A sheer jagged cliff fell almost vertically down before her. She'd run all the way to the end of the tunnel, arriving at the opening of a cave near the top of a massive stone tower, emerging into open air. And the sky was there – the sky! – overcast and angry, and sharp rain was falling all around her, and far below her was the sea – the sea, thrashing in the storm.

Katara gaped. Where was she? Was this it? Had she made it? Was she back in the mortal world?

There wasn't enough time to wonder. Koh burst out of the cave behind her, lunging for her with a ferocious roar, heaving up another violent surge of black vomit. Katara screamed and frantically darted away from him, leaping over his many claws, scrambling against the jagged stones to get away. She spotted a narrow path that seemed to wind down the side of the stone tower, and raced down it as fast as she could, thinking of nothing else except getting away, getting away. Koh soon recovered himself and came after her again, with redoubled fury.

The stones were slippery with rain. Katara stumbled and grasped at the stones as she ran, ran down the cliff, pulling and pushing herself forward with every ounce of strength she had, with Koh always just a step behind her. Only his convulsions of sickness slowed him down, forcing him to halt every few steps to vomit again – he would have caught her otherwise.

Out of pure instinct, Katara began to sweep her arms behind her, throwing the rain back at him, bombarding him with frantic volleys of ice.

The ice didn't do much to slow him down – it shattered harmlessly off his thick exoskeleton – but somehow amid the chaos and the terror, she realized that she was Waterbending. She could bend again. She wasn't in the Spirit World anymore. So she'd made it.

But where was she supposed to run now? Into the sea?

What was she supposed to do again? She remembered she was supposed to get here, but she could barely make herself remember anything else –

So she kept running – down, down, down the cliff, towards the stormy churning waves far below.

Her bare feet suddenly slipped on the stones as she ran, and Katara fell hard, sliding and tumbling uncontrollably down the side of the cliff. She screamed and grunted in pain as she fell, and her heart stopped beating, certain she was about to go plummeting off the cliff.

But after a long fall, she at last came to a stop on a relatively flat outcropping, dizzy and throbbing and hurting everywhere.

She struggled to push herself up hastily – to start running again – but before she had a chance, the Face-Stealer was upon her.

He pinned her to the ground, pressing down on her chest with his sharp claws, his massive centipede body looming over her, erupting with vicious rage. And his face suddenly changed to a monstrous one: a rotten, grotesque thing, scaled and horrifying, with two empty eye sockets. It roared into hers, and she screamed – screamed irrepressibly – and felt the claws grasping at her face.

She kept screaming – it exploded endlessly out of her lungs, and sounded as if it didn't even belong to her.

Her entire body felt an icy jolt, a wave of numbness, as if her soul itself were being ripped apart – the world began to tip, turning upside down – she felt a burning tingling beneath the skin of her face, like a million blazing ants crawling just below her flesh. Her scream was being pulled from her, sucked out of her chest.

Her face – her face – he was taking her face –

No! _No! _She wouldn't let him!

Her entire self was suddenly usurped by a wild, defiant rage, flooding over her mindlessly – a frantic desperation to keep her face at all costs, a violent urge to obliterate that horrible, scaly, eyeless face of his so that no one would ever have to see it again.

The world tipped further sideways around her, and her eyesight suddenly deserted her, and the fiery ants beneath her skin gave way to the feeling of a terrible, frigid numbness.

Blindly, she swung both of her arms in a mad, broad sweeping motion, grasping at the rain – forming it into two razor-sharp blades of water – and she brought the blades of water down simultaneously upon the Face-Stealer, upon his awful face, slicing it from his body in one swift stroke.

Then a storm of strange chaos erupted.

Koh bellowed in wild agony. Katara's eyesight returned to her, and gravity realigned itself, and the chilling sensation of losing her face ceased at once. The monster's disembodied face fell heavily onto her chest, and thick black fluid began to spurt and gurgle from the edges of his wound. She gaped up at him, breathlessly, and watched as a thousand upon a thousand faces flashed before her eyes – human and inhuman – each one there and gone in a fraction of a second, all screaming the same miserable, groaning scream. The Face-Stealer's entire massive body shook and shuddered intensely.

At last the rapid succession of faces ceased, and the scream died away, and all that was left was an empty gash at the front of his body where a face should have been. The thick black fluid poured from the wound now in a torrent. The Face-Stealer then retreated, quivering, reeling away from her, frantically clawing his way back up the cliff towards the opening of the cave that led back into his realm, bleeding and blindly crashing against the stones the entire way, leaving a trail of the black fluid along the rocks in his wake.

Then he was gone. And the only sound was the sound of the falling rain, and the rolling sea, and thunder in the distance.

Katara could only lay there on the ground, breathing and breathing, unable to move, or do anything else at all. She merely lay there, letting the rain fall over her, listening with overwhelming relief to the beautiful absence of danger – and allowed herself to savor a few quiet, dizzy moments of thoughtless, motionless, triumphant rest. It was a very long time before she was able to move again.

* * *

><p><em>Yay! Katara wins! But of course we all knew she would. <em>:D

_Heh heh... wouldn't it have been awful if she actually got her face stolen? Just - blah, face stolen, that's all? And then I popped in and was like, "Well, that's the end of the story! Hope you all enjoyed!" LOL you guys would have murdered me. Though it would have been quite a surprise, wouldn't it? _^_^

_... So I think that "Spirited Away" was bursting through my subconscious when I first came up with this idea of the big angrily-vomiting chase scene with Koh & Katara. Whoever's seen that movie, I'm sure you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. *shudders*_ _If you haven't seen that movie... you totally should. 'Cause it's amazing._

_(You know, come to think of it, I think I heard somewhere that Koh's character might actually have been partially inspired by No-Face in "Spirited Away," which would explain why I was thinking about it when I wrote this... Though I could also be making that up. I do know for a fact that Appa was inspired by the Catbus in "My Neighbor Totoro"!... But that has nothing to do with anything, so never mind, lol).  
><em>

_Anyway, this and much of the ensuing chapters are ones that I've already somewhat written/previously sketched out, so I think they should all be coming pretty quickly! The next chapter should definitely be up within a day or two, especially now that I've got most of my schoolwork for this week done. _^_^


	39. The Return

_Yay! The other moment we've been waiting for! _:D

Mai: "You make your readers wait for a lot of things, don't you?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Things are better when you have to wait for them." ^_^<br>Mai: "Yeah, I guess that's pretty true. Although waiting is boring."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "But you think everything is boring, Mai."<br>Mai: *_ponders_* "Yeah, that's pretty true also."

_P.S. **Fuschiaphoenix**, in response to your last review: Mai vs. Koh? Hehe. Ever read the Dr. Seuss story "The Zax"? Two characters walking in opposite directions run into one another, and both refuse to move out of each other's way... for the rest of eternity. I imagine it might go down something like that. _^_^

* * *

><p><strong>THE RETURN<strong>

After the faceless monster vanished – quivering and defeated – back into the cave at the top of the strange stone edifice, Katara let her head fall back, resting on the stones, and lay there sprawled on her back for several minutes, shivering violently, staring straight up into the stormy gray sky. The rain washed over her, and she squinted and blinked against the icy drops that pummeled her face – _her_ face. Still attached, still hers.

The feeling of the rain on her face was glorious, simply because her face was still hers. She just lay there, and breathed, and breathed, and contemplated the beating of her own heart.

At last, her mind began to recollect itself, and a single quiet thought took root, budding and blooming into an ecstatic ringing in her head.

_I won... I won!_

Koh was gone. She'd done it: what no one else had ever done. She'd taken his face. She'd released all of the stolen faces. She'd defeated the Face-Stealer. It was over.

A wild, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up inside of her, and she released it helplessly into the stormy air.

So, did that mean...? Would all the stolen faces just automatically return to their owners? She could only assume so. And that meant that Aang was...

She had to get back! She had to get back to the Spirit World, back to Zara's garden. She had to go find him – right now! What would he think when she told him what she'd done? When she told him how she'd done what no one else had ever done before – she'd defeated Koh. She couldn't wait to tell him! She couldn't even imagine what he'd say. But no matter what he said, surely after this – surely, none of her foolish selfishness, nothing she'd ever done to hurt him in the past – none of that would matter now. Because she'd fought the Face-Stealer, and won, just for him.

She couldn't wait to tell him! She couldn't wait to see him again. She didn't even care what he said, actually – she just wanted to hear his voice. She just wanted to see his face again, in its proper place, animated with his own unique inflections and nuances and spirit. She just wanted to be able to sit with him, and look at him, and listen to him talk for hours and hours. She wanted that more than anything else in the world, and she wanted it immediately.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she wasn't entirely certain how to get back into the Spirit World now. Where was Yue? Would Yue come for her? Would Yue know that she'd won? Katara wasn't sure. Should she just go back through the cave again, the way she'd come? Katara shuddered at the thought of going back through the lair of the Face-Stealer, even if there was no longer anything to fear.

How was she getting back?

Honestly, she was too exhausted to worry. Something was bound to happen. She'd get back somehow. Yue would come for her. But she should probably get up, at least. She couldn't lay out here in the rain forever.

So, shakily, she pushed herself up off the ground. And as she sat up, she realized that the Face-Stealer's dead face was still lying on her chest, contorted and disgusting and covered in Koh's black blood (if you could call it blood). It tumbled into her lap and stared back up at her with its hollow eye sockets.

A nauseous shiver instantly rippled through her, and with a cry of repulsion, she instinctively took the hideous face and flung it out to sea, as hard as she could, watching as it soared through the air and vanished into the choppy waves.

Even after it was gone, she shivered uncontrollably, unable to shake the feeling of it. And she also realized, too, that she was drenched in that sticky black fluid, almost head to toe. Shuddering, stomach tumbling, she tried to wipe it off, to bend it off. It wouldn't bend, and her efforts to scrub it off were mostly futile. The smell of it was rank, and after a few moments, her stomach couldn't bear it anymore. She heaved and threw up for the second time that day, but did at least feel a bit better afterwards.

Pushing herself shakily to her feet, she wobbled and found her equilibrium again, and decided that she didn't really care about how filthy she was. That didn't matter. She just had to get back to Aang. She had to find Yue, get back to the Spirit World somehow.

The only place to go was back up, so – rather reluctantly – that was where she went. For a moment, she leaned against the stone cliff-face, and let the rain pour down on her, and then began to take slow, stumbling steps back up towards the mouth of the cave. Her bare feet slid unsteadily on the trail of black fluid that the Face-Stealer had left behind in his flight, and her head still spun dizzily.

Even so, as she walked, that irrepressible joy boiled up in her again. She leaned her head back and took a moment to breathe deeply, to savor the feeling of the rain washing over her, and laughed again in triumph.

When she reached the cave at the top, Yue was waiting for her at the threshold. Katara soared with happiness to see her.

"Katara, you did it!" she beamed, taking Katara's hand, which was still covered with the black blood of the Face-Stealer. Yue didn't seem to care, or notice, even though the sight of the sickly dark fluid contrasting with her pure, clean whiteness made Katara feel rather like retching again. Luckily, her stomach was now entirely empty, and she was too distracted with the overwhelming relief of her victory to be bothered much by it anyway.

"Aang – can I see Aang now?" Katara stammered hoarsely, voice trembling, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Yes, it's time for you to bring him back home." Yue's happy expression suddenly became very solemn. "Katara, I know you're tired, and you've done so much already. But you remember what I told you before? About the return journey?"

Katara grew suddenly somber as well, and her heart gave out a little bit. She'd almost forgotten – Aang wasn't safe quite yet. There was still the return, and the problem of him transitioning back to the mortal world after being trapped for so long in the Spirit World. The ordeal was still not over, though certainly the most difficult part was done. Nevertheless, a horrible resentment pierced her for a moment, and she had to shut her eyes, mustering what little strength she had left. The bitter, potent yearning just to go home and _sleep _nearly overpowered her.

"Yes, I remember," she whispered. It seemed so unfair, after so much, that a restful happy ending was still so out of reach, still not guaranteed. But there was nothing that could be done.

"Are you ready?" Yue asked her softly.

Katara paused for a moment, and then nodded. Yue took her other hand quietly, and a few seconds later the darkness and rain melted away, and they were standing in Zara's garden once again.

The high wall of the garden, and the tall open entrance, lay off to Katara's left. And the blindfolded guardian herself was suddenly there, standing serenely and silently on the right.

Katara glanced around the garden, and saw that life was stirring everywhere – the dead silence that had permeated the place before was dissolving into a buzzing, rustling tumult. Spirits, both human and inhuman, were shifting and murmuring everywhere she looked. Zara nodded to Katara with a very small, grave smile of gratitude – or perhaps congratulation. It was the first actual expression Katara had seen on the woman's face, and it gave her an eerie but euphoric shiver. Then Zara began to wander amongst the spirits, slowly removing the white wrappings around their heads one by one. The first spirit to be uncovered was a massive tiger-creature with a serpent's tale, and as Zara removed the cloth wrapping, a savage, ferocious face suddenly emerged. Katara couldn't help but feel a little frightened of the spirit, but she also shivered ecstatically with the thrill of actually seeing a _face _appear there, just where it belonged. The monstrous spirit shook itself, stretched its muscles, and then bounded over the wall and out of the garden.

"Come on, Katara," Yue said softly, taking Katara's hand once again and leading her off through the garden, away from where the blindfolded woman silently worked to liberate each of her long-suffering patients. "Zara will take care of the rest of them. Let's find Aang."

Katara couldn't remember how to speak at the moment, so she simply followed Yue obediently, gaping in wide-eyed awe at the vast array of people and creatures that were coming back to life in the garden. And as they walked, she spotted – very far away, beneath a remote grove of trees – Avatar Kuruk, kneeling beside his lost love, Ummi, gently removing the cloths around her face. Katara tried to stop and watch the scene unfold, but Yue pulled her forward insistently. The last glimpse that Katara caught was of Ummi – her face returned to her after centuries – gazing up at Kuruk with bewildered blue eyes, and Kuruk clutching her fiercely in his arms.

Katara's heart raced.

_Aang_.

In a moment, that would be her and Aang.

She walked a little faster. Started to run. Passed up Yue and left her behind, too excited to wait.

At last, there he was – lying beneath a cherry tree, just where she'd left him, still looking as if he were asleep. Katara raced to his side, not breathing, nearly exploding with joyful anticipation. She dropped to her knees in the soft grass and immediately began to unwrap the cloths around his head – carefully, not too roughly – though it took all her self-restraint not to simply rip them off.

"Aang!" she laughed, trembling with happiness. "_Aang!_"

As before, she finally caught a glimpse of flesh beneath the cloths. But this time, he was there – his face was there, just where it was supposed to be. First his left eye, then his right (both closed), then his nose and mouth and his arrow tattoo. He looked just the way he was supposed to – just how she remembered. Katara tore off the last of the cloth and threw it into the grass, pulling him into her arms, laughing and sobbing simultaneously.

"It's you!" she gasped, barely able to believe that it really _was _him – that she was actually holding him in her arms, and he was himself again. "You're okay again! You have no idea... Aang?"

He wasn't moving or responding to her at all. Her heart stumbled a bit, uncertain, already dreading. She frowned and pulled back, looking at him. His eyes were open now, and he was staring at her: but the expression was vacant, and the eyes seemed to look straight through her. As if his body was there, perfectly fine; but the rest of him – _Himself _– was gone, or turned off. As if his mind and personality had been wiped clean. He was empty.

"Aang, say something!" Katara shouted, holding his face in both hands and staring him urgently in the eyes. Yue was standing beside her now, and Katara looked up at her in a panic. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he talking? Something's wrong – _what's wrong with him_?"

Yue didn't reply immediately; she only gazed at Aang, with a troubled expression, and Katara's panic instantly intensified. Yue shouldn't have been looking at him like that. That wasn't right. Something was wrong.

"It's all right, Katara," Yue murmured after a moment, frowning slightly. "He'll be okay."

"You're lying!" Katara screamed, rising to her feet and backing away from both of them in horror. "Why are you lying to me, Yue?"

"I'm not lying, Katara," she said serenely, though her worried frown only grew deeper. She leaned down and lifted Aang to his feet. He stood, and didn't fall; but his expression remained devoid of life. "But his mind's asleep right now. Dormant. He's been here too long. You have to bring him back to the mortal world immediately, or else he won't survive the return. I just hope it isn't already too late."

Katara's entire body was shaking. Fear and fury boiled inside of her.

"This isn't fair!" she cried. "Why is this happening? Why does it have to be like this? Everyone else around here is awake! Why not him?"

"None of them are still alive like he is," Yue replied softly. "They're all just spirits. Aang isn't. He doesn't belong here like they do."

Katara breathed slowly.

"He'll be himself again once he gets back," Yue reassured her, adding, "But you need to take him back home, Katara. _Now_."

Katara struggled for a moment, then turned her eyes up to meet Yue's beseechingly. "Is... is he going to die?" she asked, in a painful whisper.

Yue gazed at her with heavy sorrow. "Hopefully not," she replied hesitantly, with an anxious sigh. "I promised I'd do whatever I could to help you, Katara, and I will. But you have to bring him back, no matter what happens."

Biting her lip, Katara turned her gaze upon Aang, and shuddered. He looked just like himself, exactly the way he should have looked – but he wasn't there. He was far away, unaware of her, unaware of anything. And now, after already coming so far to save him, she had to drag him back to the mortal world with her, force him to follow her on a journey that, if it didn't destroy him, would certainly cause him unbearable pain. And she wouldn't even have a chance to hear his voice again before that happened, or tell him everything she wanted to tell him... The disappointment and the grief were both almost too terrible to handle.

_No_, she thought fiercely. _Not like this. I don't care. It's not going to end like this_.

Katara stepped forward, coming near to Aang, and took his face in her hands again. For a few moments, she simply gazed at him, absorbing the sight of him, while tears rolled down her cheeks.

Then she whispered, "Aang?"

Of course, he didn't respond. Only stared straight through her.

But Katara went on, resolute. "I – I don't know if – if maybe you're in there, somewhere, and you can understand me somehow. But... just in case I don't get to say this later, I – I love you so much, and I've missed you. And I'm so sorry for everything I said before you left."

She paused, choking a bit and struggling against the tears. After a moment of hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him very carefully. He didn't flutter an eyelash.

"Aang – it's time to go home now," she whispered, stumbling over quiet sobs, but determined not to let this be the end. "We've got to go back now. It'll be hard – I'm sorry. But we still have to go." Reaching down, she took both of his hands and entwined her fingers with his. "I won't let you die, okay? I'll save you. I promise."

"We have to hurry, Katara," Yue insisted in a gentle whisper, her eyes filled with sympathetic grief. "Come on – let's go."

She reached out her hand. Katara hesitantly took it with her left hand, and grasped Aang's hand with her right. And Yue led them, silently and solemnly, back to the entrance of the garden. As they went, they passed by more and more spirits, stirring to life with their newly restored faces. But Katara could only look at Aang: she clutched his hand fiercely, and stared over her shoulder back at him. He merely stumbled on listlessly behind her, eyes glazed; and no matter how desperately she longed for him to wake up, to speak, to do _anything – _no matter how intensely she watched him, waiting for him to blink, shake himself back to consciousness, and realize that she was here with him – he didn't. Just kept walking behind her, automatically following her hand, in dead silence, with empty eyes.

At last, they arrived back at the entrance, and outside the garden, sitting patiently among the misty golden trees, was a spirit that looked like an enormous panda bear.

"Katara, this is Hei Bai," Yue told her. "He's come to take you and Aang back to the mortal world."

Katara stared in astonished recognition at the great black-and-white forest spirit, and Hei Bai gave them a grim but gentle look. Nevertheless, Katara still couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable. She squeezed Aang's hand and pulled him instinctively closer to herself.

"Um," she stammered timidly, "I'm pretty sure I've met him before, sort of. I think he kidnapped Sokka once, a long time ago. And also some other people. And he also wrecked this village we were staying at."

Yue glanced at her in surprise, and then up at Hei Bai. But Hei Bai seemed perfectly serene – unconcerned about whatever Katara said he'd done.

"Oh," Yue said rather awkwardly. "Well, uh... he's a friend of Aang's. That's why he's come – he'll carry you both to the threshold. After that, you'll have to go the rest of the way on your own."

"What about you?" Katara asked her. "You aren't coming too?"

Yue shook her head slowly. "No, but I'll be waiting to help you when you get back, if you need me. I promise. All right?"

Katara stared at her for a moment, then shivered for some reason, overwhelmed with a sudden barrage of contradictory feelings, one after another: utter exhaustion, unshakable resolve, crushing loneliness, quiet gratitude, futile dread, timid hope. She didn't know what would happen now - but she refused to accept that anything would take Aang away from her, now that she had him back. And she was thankful for Yue, and sorry to say good-bye.

As if she sensed Katara's thoughts, Yue suddenly gathered Katara into a tight, encouraging hug. "It's going to be all right, Katara."

"Thanks, Yue," Katara whispered huskily. "I mean, thanks for everything. It was... it was really good to see you again."

"You too," Yue smiled softly. "I'm sorry we couldn't have seen each other under happier circumstances." She released Katara from the hug, and after a moment of thought, she said quietly, "Tell Sokka hello for me... And Aang too, when he's back to himself."

Katara wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry; but she just smiled brokenly, shivered again, and whispered, "All right. I'll be sure to do that."

* * *

><p>The Spirit Oasis teemed with utter silence.<p>

Everyone was asleep now - everyone except for Sokka. He sat beside the bank of the pond, staring thoughtfully up at the moon, his heavy eyelids trying very hard to close. But he wouldn't let them. Not till Katara came back.

He'd been sitting in meditative silence for a very long time, when suddenly the stillness was broken by a soft rustling sound behind him. Sokka didn't have to look to know that it was Zuko, stirring restlessly in his sleep. After a few minutes, Zuko gave up on sleep and came to sit next to Sokka.

"How long has it been now?" he asked in a hush.

"Who knows?" Sokka muttered wearily. "Hours. Lots of hours."

Zuko hesitated. "Do you think the Solstice is over now?"

Sokka didn't answer for a while. Then he unleashed a deep, unhappy sigh. "I have no idea. But it's gotta be close, if it's not."

"Do you think that matters? I mean - did she have to actually bring Aang back before the Solstice ended, or was that just when she had to get there?"

"I don't know, Zuko. Why are you asking me?"

"Sorry. There's no one else to ask."

They both fell silent for several minutes. The waterfall rushed serenely in the distance. The stillness was almost a palpable substance in the air.

"Did you... I mean, did you expect it was going to take this long?" Zuko asked hesitantly.

"I never really thought this far ahead, honestly," Sokka replied, struggling not to let his fears overwhelm him. "But - I don't know. I have no idea."

Zuko paused, shutting his eyes tightly. "I just keep thinking... not that I really know anything about all this. But it doesn't seem like it should have taken her this long just to deal with some spirit. What has she been doing all this time?"

"Can we please not think about this?" Sokka said, rather sharply, shivering uncontrollably as all the worst possible answers to Zuko's question came flooding into his head. "I was doing a really great job of not thinking about it on my own. Could we - could we just not think about it?"

Zuko glanced at him, then turned his eyes to the tranquil pond, and rubbed his face fiercely with his hands. "I can't think about anything else," he admitted.

Sokka closed his eyes and breathed deeply, deliberately, focusing on not surrendering to the despair.

"I just wish she'd hurry up and come back," Zuko whispered.

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

><p>Katara sat on the back of the great panda bear's neck, with Aang seated in front of her, while Hei Bai carried them, softly and swiftly, through the eerie terrain of the Spirit World. Aang was still silent, and he seemed as if he were asleep now, though Katara couldn't see whether or not his eyes were closed; he slumped, rocking with the movements of the black-and-white spirit's gliding footsteps, and Katara clutched him firmly around the waist, afraid he might fall off if she didn't hold on to him.<p>

The journey was long, and despite her surroundings, despite everything she'd been through since she arrived, despite her resentment of the situation and her unbearable anxiety about what lay before them - despite Aang himself - Katara found herself drifting off to sleep. Hei Bai's lumbering stride was smooth and relaxing, like the rocking of a hammock, and she was tired. So, so tired. She couldn't remember ever feeling so drained, not even during her recent period of sleep deprivation. That had been a different kind of exhaustion: a tiredness of the body. This was a tiredness of the soul.

She yawned, and leaned her head wearily against Aang's back, and shut her eyes for a few minutes. And even though it was all so unfairly horrible that Aang wasn't himself yet, and that he'd have to suffer so much during the return before everything was all right again - regardless, she leaned against him, and his warmth and solidity filled her with a quiet, simmering satisfaction. She faintly felt his heartbeat, slow and steady and lethargic, and she allowed herself to once again surrender to complete amazement that he really, truly existed again.

_It's going to be all right_, she thought, and for those few quiet minutes of restfulness, she believed it. At that moment, she couldn't see how it could possibly _not _turn out all right, one way or another. Not now that he was real again, and his heart was beating so certainly. Yes, perhaps his mind was asleep for now; but at least she could feel his heart beating. At least there was that.

Hei Bai carried them far across the Spirit World, at last returning all the way back to the golden swamp where Katara had first arrived. He carried them on through the swamp, past the unfriendly baboon spirit she'd met before (still meditating), and past even the small hill with the stone arch that she recognized as the place where she'd originally landed. She frowned in slight confusion as they passed it by, wondering where exactly they were going. Yue had said that Hei Bai would carry them "to the threshold," but she had no idea what that meant. She didn't let it worry her much, though; she trusted Hei Bai knew what he was doing.

At last, not far past the place where Katara had first arrived in the Spirit World, the massive spirit slowed to a gentle halt in the swamp, and Katara looked up. Before them was an enormous tree - much larger than the rest of the tangled, mossy trees that rose up out of the swamp - and as Hei Bai approached it, the tree began to shift. Its rough bark, wrinkled and ancient, began to billow and slide. And as Katara watched in wonder, the tree's thick interwoven roots peeled back, curling and crackling noisily, and a small dark opening appeared in the side of the trunk. The opening widened and widened, as if the tree was stretching itself out as far as it could, until what had originally been a hole too small even for Katara to fit through had become a cavernous mouth massive enough to swallow five Hei Bais, plus Katara and Aang, all in a single gulp.

Katara gaped at the sight of it, and wished that Aang was aware, so he could be as awed by it as she was. Although, she thought, perhaps he'd seen this sort of thing plenty of times before, and he wouldn't be all that surprised by it anyway.

Hei Bai quietly stepped forward into the gaping opening in the tree, and they passed into an immense cave-like chamber, dim and draped with ribbons of moss. Katara looked straight up and saw that the walls of the cavern grew closer together the higher it went, at last culminating in a fairly narrow point far above, at the center of which she saw - to her great astonishment - was a small pool. A pool of water, upside-down, suspended on the ceiling.

A narrow path was carved into the walls, spiraling around the perimeter of the cavern. It began on the ground, twisting round and round the room, higher and higher. But the higher it wound, the more it began to tilt illogically - by the time it reached the pool at the top of the ceiling, anyone walking on it would have to be walking completely sideways, parallel to the ground. And the path ran straight into the pool of water, as if the pool was some sort of doorway.

Hei Bai looked up as well, and then leaned gently back on his haunches, signalling for them to dismount.

Katara slid off of the great bear's back, still gaping in amazement at the ceiling, the sideways path, and the upside-down pool. She then reached up and took Aang's hand, pulling him carefully off of Hei Bai's back and steadying him as he landed. He blinked heavily, blankly, and didn't show any signs that he was at all aware of his surroundings.

Hei Bai, meanwhile, solemnly gazed at Katara for a second, and then pointed his nose at the place where the path began at the floor of the cavern.

She stared at the spirit. "So... We're just supposed to walk? All the way up there?"

Hei Bai fixed her with a grave, but somehow encouraging, look.

"But - " Katara blushed rather foolishly. "Won't we...? I mean, won't we fall?"

Hei Bai lowered his head to the ground, and shook himself with a small grunt. Somehow, Katara understood this to mean that they wouldn't fall, no matter how much it looked as if they would.

She took a deep breath, grimacing slightly at the seemingly impossible, gravity-defying path. But she had no choice but to take the spirit's word for it. So she bowed to him respectfully.

"Thank you, Hei Bai," she said.

The great panda once more bowed his massive head to the ground, and then quietly turned and departed. The mouth of the cavern closed up behind him, as the roots of the tree wove themselves back together once again. Katara and Aang were left alone in the enormous chamber, in the silence, with nowhere to go but up.

She took his hand resolutely, and gazed at him a moment. He was staring blankly at the ground. With a sigh, she gave his hand a small squeeze, hoping that perhaps, somewhere deep down, he would understand it and know she was here. Then she led him forward, onto the narrow path, beginning the strange winding walk up to the upside-down pool at the top.

It was a long, slow climb. Katara didn't speak a word, and of course all Aang did was plod obediently along behind her. She held onto his hand tightly all the while, staring always straight ahead, wondering how on earth this was going to happen, and wishing that Hei Bai hadn't left them. Suppose they did fall? There would be no one around to catch them. But then, she thought, if there was a danger of them falling, surely Hei Bai would have stayed. So she gritted her teeth and walked on.

For quite a while, the path ran normally - flat and even, aligned with the usual direction of gravity. Katara worried about what would happen when they reached the part of the path that seemed to be indifferent to gravity - but nevertheless, she walked on, trusting that it would work out somehow. And with each step she began to wonder and worry about other things.

They would soon be back in the mortal world, presumably. She hoped that they'd end up back in the Spirit Oasis, and not somewhere else. No one had exactly guaranteed that that was where they'd find themselves when they returned; she'd simply assumed. But now she was beginning to doubt. Perhaps she should have asked. Perhaps she should have made it clear that she needed to get back to the Spirit Oasis, since people were waiting for her there.

Then, for the first time since she'd come to the Spirit World, she thought about Sokka and Zuko, and Tenzin and Ursa, all waiting patiently for her back in the Oasis. How long had she been gone? Suppose they weren't there when she got back? No - surely they would wait. Of course they would. She wondered what they'd been doing all this time. She wondered if Tenzin was worried about her, and hoped that Sokka and Zuko would be sure to comfort him if he got scared. She wondered how Tenzin would react to seeing his father for the first time.

A small shiver of excitement tingled through her bones at that thought.

But then she began to worry again - about Aang. What was going to happen to him when they got back? Of course, she remembered what Yue had told her before. All the time he'd lost while trapped in the Spirit World would catch up to him within minutes. It was going to be painful - she didn't know _how _painful, but apparently bad enough that he might not survive. Her heart pounded frantically, and her previous assurance that all would be well began to desert her again. Suppose it didn't turn out all right? Suppose she brought him back, they came back to the Spirit Oasis, and he died - right there, in front of Tenzin and all of them? She trembled, and squeezed his hand tighter as they walked - so tight that he might have complained, if he'd been aware of it.

She couldn't even fathom it. He _had_ to make it through this - he couldn't die now. He was _right here_, with her. She had him again. If he died - just _died _- after all of this, after she'd waited so long, come such a long way, defeated the Face-Stealer and everything... No. It was too awful. So awful that it bordered on absurdity. She could barely stand to even think about it, but it nevertheless made her heart thud in anxiety, and it caused her footsteps to slow down ever so slightly as they walked, as they neared that upside-down pool at the top.

Aging five years in a matter of minutes. What exactly would that do to a person, she wondered? How would that feel?

When would it start? When would it really hit him?

What could she do against such a thing? How could she keep it from killing him? She wasn't even sure what exactly would happen, what would go on inside his body, when it began, so it was impossible to guess what she'd need to do to make sure he survived the ordeal.

She shuddered with horror, and intense grief and pity. Glancing back over her shoulder at Aang, still empty-eyed and expressionless, she burned with sorrow for his sake, wishing she could somehow keep him from suffering, even somehow take his pain onto herself. The worst part was that she was leading him straight into it, and he was merely following her - trustingly, blindly. He had no idea what was about to happen to him, and she couldn't do anything to prepare him for it either.

Katara breathed deeply, and turned her eyes forward again, unable to look at him anymore. But she held resolutely on to his hand, and kept moving forward. There was nothing she could do about it. She could only keep going forward, and hope that everything would turn out all right, when the time came.

Suddenly, she glanced off to the left, and with a small cry of surprise, realized that the ground - far away from them now - was sideways. No - _they _were sideways. Walking parallel to the ground. Gravity seemed to have shifted, to accommodate them. She hadn't even noticed it happen.

Within a few more steps, they arrived at the end of the path, and the impossible pool of water was before them: standing vertically, like a rippling doorway. The path ran straight through it, and Katara knew that as soon as they passed through, there would really be no turning back. They'd be on their way home, unable to stop, and Aang's horrible tribulation would begin.

There was nothing else to do.

So Katara took a deep breath, now firmly grasping Aang's hand with both of hers.

"It'll be all right," she whispered, as if he would understand her. "It'll be all right."

She stepped forward, and passed through the surface of the vertical pool, pulling Aang along behind her.

As soon as they passed through, Katara was swept suddenly off her feet. They were entirely immersed in water - utterly dark - and some powerful current took hold of them, dragging them onward: forward, inward, downward, upward... It was difficult to know exactly what direction it was, other than _onward, onward._ The pull was incredible, impossible to fight, and for a few seconds she panicked, and clutched Aang's hand with all her might, terrified that he'd be ripped out of her grasp in the rushing current. Somehow in the chaos, she managed to pull him towards herself, wrapping her arms around his chest and holding onto him as hard as she could.

They sped through complete darkness, rushing through the water at an unbelievable speed, dragged along powerlessly - onward, onward. Her heart raced with the speed, with the fear, with the anticipation of what would come next. She wondered where they would end up. She wondered if Aang knew what was happening. She wondered when the lost time would begin to take its toll on him.

Then, suddenly, piercing the pitch black darkness, a small point of light appeared before them, growing rapidly larger and larger. As they were pulled nearer to it, Katara realized it was the surface of the pond in the Spirit Oasis - she could see the moon, and the surrounding cliffs.

That was it. They were nearly there, rushing towards it, faster than wind, faster than thought.

She curled her arms more firmly around Aang, bracing herself on his behalf, dreading what would happen as soon as they emerged.

Whatever was going to happen to him, it was coming, it was coming fast.

This was it.

This was it.

Very suddenly, they were there. Katara's head burst out of the surface of the pond, and her grip tightened around Aang as she pulled his head above the water. And all at once, he jolted with life. In the instant just before they emerged into the warm air of the Spirit Oasis, she felt his entire body tense and recoil, and without warning he thrashed so violently and abruptly that she nearly lost hold of him.

And then, for the first time in five years, she heard his voice again.

Almost before his head was completely out of the pool, he was screaming. It exploded out of him in ear-splitting anguish, shattering the silence of the Oasis instantly. It startled Sokka, Zuko, and the two children (who'd all been asleep), waking them up immediately.

It was his voice – but like no sound she'd ever heard from him before, or any other human being. It sounded like an animal's screech – it sounded like death. She could feel it ripping out from every inch of his body. It sucked the air out of him. It gripped her heart and wrung it dry.

"Help me!" she bellowed frantically at Sokka and Zuko, struggling to keep her grip on Aang while he lurched and screamed. But Sokka and Zuko were already in the water, splashing towards them as quickly as they could. They took hold of Aang, wrestling with his convulsing body, and together helped Katara drag him to the shore.

"Stay back!" Zuko roared at Tenzin and Ursa, who had begun to draw closer. The children quickly retreated to a safe distance, watching the scene in wide-eyed terror.

Aang's screams redoubled, and his spine arched in agony while his limbs thrashed. They all fought to pin him to the ground, to keep him still – in the midst of the struggle, Sokka took an elbow violently to the nose, losing his grip on Aang for a moment. But he quickly grabbed hold of him again, ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull and the water in his eyes.

Ursa covered her ears against Aang's screams, unable to bear the sound, and turned away. But Tenzin couldn't stop watching.

"Get something in his mouth!" Sokka commanded fiercely, swiping the water and sweat from his eyes. "Make sure he doesn't bite his tongue!"

"What's wrong with him?" Zuko shouted over Aang's anguished howls, hastily pulling his knife's sheath from his belt, tossing away the knife, and handing the small leather sheath to Katara.

"He's – I don't know!" she gasped – "I mean, I do! But – I can't – !"

It was too hard to explain, and Katara was far too focused just on fighting to set Zuko's sheath between Aang's teeth without getting her fingers bitten off. Her hands trembled; her entire body quaked with terror; beads of sweat dripped from her brow. She was in such a frenzy that she could barely form coherent thoughts, and broken shards of sentences spilled from her mouth.

"They said this would – Hold him – He's dying – He won't – I'll save him!"

Those lost five years crashed upon Aang without mercy. Katara thought she could almost see the structure of his face shifting slightly beneath his flesh. He groaned and howled agonizingly, muffled from the sheath in his mouth. Sokka struggled to keep his arms pinned to the ground, ignoring the blood that was trickling from his own nose. And Zuko held down Aang's legs with difficulty, while Katara straddled his torso, barely breathing and nearly erupting with panic. She raised her arms, and two jets of water flew up from the spirit pool behind them, arching through the air and into her hands, which she forced down onto Aang's chest.

Katara became a tempest. Her face flushed, her eyes scorched, her hair stuck to the sweat on her brow and neck. A brutal scream exploded from deep in her bowels, thundering through the Oasis, drowning out Aang's muffled cries of pain.

Sokka and Zuko fought with all their might to hold down his arms and legs, while Katara pressed the streams of water from the pond into his chest furiously. Her hands glowed, and the water itself seemed to spark with a kind of inner lightning, as she drove the healing energy through his body with frantic urgency, pushing his heart to keep beating, his lungs to keep breathing, his blood to keep flowing. She could feel his heart racing madly, pounding at an impossible speed. She could feel his bones and muscles shuddering with relentless tremors. Despite the fact that he was thrashing ferociously, she became unmovable as a mountain, refusing to be thrown.

While the healing water surged through her hands and into Aang, the rest of the water around the Spirit Oasis began to respond to her turbulent emotions. The pond itself swelled and boiled, the dew on the grass and the leaves crystallized into frost, and the sweat on her brow began forming miniature icicles. Sokka and Zuko both stared at her in fearful awe, and Tenzin and Ursa clutched one another as they gaped helplessly from afar at the terrible spectacle.

But Katara was unaware – she was unaware even of herself. Every ounce of her energy was focused on Aang, and a hurricane of rage, frustration, despair and defiance seethed in the depths of her stomach, bursting out of her in anguished snarls, fueling her desperate efforts to keep him alive.

He was a boy again, and she was losing him a million times over.

He was small, helpless, fragile – slipping through her grasp – He was dying in her arms, already dead, from Azula's fatal lightning strike – He was leaving her again in the South Pole, broken heart visible in his eyes, and she was helpless to bring him back.

_How many times!_ – her thoughts roared viciously – _How many times are you going to take him away from me? Why can't I just have him back?!_

These were the words that stormed through her mind, over and over again, as Aang lurched and struggled and screamed, as she fought with him, forcing him to keep living. But all that actually came out of her mouth was, "How many times! _How many times!_"

To Zuko and Sokka, she was bellowing nonsense – but they were both too focused on restraining Aang, and too frightened of Katara in the frenzied state she was in, to question what was going through her mind at the moment.

The Spirit Oasis rippled and rumbled. Time seemed to slow until each second was a blurry hour. The edges of reality became razor sharp, and the moonlit colors around them blazed, and the atmosphere itself seemed to bend toward Katara. And Katara forgot who she was, lost in the dizzy battle to keep the struggling Airbender alive.

Then, all at once, he gave up - he stopped moving. His arms and legs fell limp. He wasn't breathing. She felt his heart screech to a sudden halt beneath her fingertips.

"_No!_" she shrieked in panic, tears of rage streaking down her face. She pulsed more healing power through the water with adrenaline-fueled intensity. "Come back! _Come back! _Don't do that! Aang, don't! _Come back!_"

Nothing was happening. He wasn't responding to her healing. Everything within him had ceased.

The Spirit Oasis grew slowly still and silent. Silent, all except for Katara's mad screams.

"_Stop! _Stop it!" she bellowed, out of her mind. "Come back! Aang, come back!"

Then, quietly, reluctantly, Sokka loosened his grip on Aang's arms. There was no need to hold him down now. He stared at the Airbender's blank face for a long time. Then at his sister. She looked otherworldly in her turbulent frenzy. Something like a cold brick dropped into his stomach, and all he could do was stare – the scene passing distantly before his eyes, unreal and foggy. A small tear found its way into his eye, burning bitterly.

"Katara – " he tried, his voice hoarse and feeble.

"Katara," Zuko rasped also, having likewise released his hold on Aang's legs. His eyes were moist as well, and he gently put a quivering hand on Katara's shoulder. "Katara, he's gone."

"_No!_" she snarled, wrenching herself viciously away from his hand. "I'm going to save him! You can't stop me!"

Suddenly, Sokka boiled, inundated with miserable, unbearable grief, followed by a strange jolt of ferocious rage: rage that any of this had happened - rage that they'd even tried to save Aang in the first place. What was the point? What was the point, if it was just going to end like this? It would have been better if they'd never come at all! A violent tremor shook him, and fiercely he reached out and grasped Katara by her shoulders, fighting to hold her still.

"Katara, _stop it!_" he shouted severely. Burning tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and his voice shattered painfully. "Leave him alone! That's it! You can't do anything else! Just stop it, okay! It's over!"

Katara savagely lurched and wrenched against his grip, unwilling to stop. But Sokka held on to her firmly, and for a few seconds they wrestled brutally. When Zuko took hold of her as well, and he and Sokka fought to restrain her and pull her away from Aang's limp form, she began to shriek like a wild cat, kicking and clawing ferociously at them. They managed to pry her away from him, but after a few moments of vicious struggling, she ripped herself free of their grasps and collapsed back onto Aang, clutching him to her chest and wailing hysterically. Tears streamed down her face and onto his, and her shoulders heaved as she moaned and howled.

Sokka and Zuko didn't touch her again; they could only watch, both shaking and weeping themselves at the sight. The children had both turned away by that time, hugging each other and crying quietly.

"But – but I – I was going to say yes!" Katara sobbed helplessly; the words were thick and barely understandable, bursting out of her in quivering moans. Her entire body quaked with grief and anguish on top of Aang's lifeless one. "I was going to... I was going to say yes... Come back, Aang... Come back... _Aang_ – please... I was going to say yes... Just come back..."

Zuko found himself paralyzed with shock and sorrow, unable to move as he watched Katara, completely demolished, weeping wildly and brokenly over Aang, as if her soul itself had been shattered. But after a few horrible moments, Sokka – his own heart fracturing painfully – inched carefully back over to his little sister and draped his arms over her heaving shoulders.

"Katara," he whispered huskily, fighting to hold himself together for her sake. "Katara. Let him go. You did all you could."

But Katara suddenly jolted and shoved him away fiercely, as if she'd been electrified with a fresh surge of brutal, defiant resolve.

"No!" she shrieked hysterically. "_No! _No, I haven't! I haven't done anything! I have to try again – I _have _to bring him back! I _have _to save him! I promised!"

Sweeping her hands back, she pulled more water out of the pond, coating her arms with it up to her shoulders, and pressed into Aang again. The water surged over his unresponsive body, blazing with energy; but it was useless.

"Katara – "

"No!" she thundered. "It's not fair! He's _mine!_ They can't do this to me! Not after everything! I won't let them do this to me!"

"Katara, listen to yourse - !" Sokka began desperately, but then he stopped. He looked up.

And so did Zuko. And so did Tenzin and Ursa. And, moments later, so did every eye in the entire North Pole.

The moon was growing larger.

As if it were drawing close to peer over Katara's shoulder, the moon grew larger. The silver moonlight that filled the Oasis intensified, until everything was illuminated brighter than daylight. And everywhere in the Oasis, and in the North Pole, and even elsewhere, the water swelled upward. The Ocean moved, reaching to touch the moon.

People watched in awe, as the canals of the city all rose up, bubbling up higher than the walkways and bridges.

And even afar off at sea, on a certain troubled merchant freighter heading for the North Pole at top speed, everyone stared in bewilderment and wonder as the moon drew near to the world, and the sea rolled and surged. Iroh saw it from a window down below in the ship, and felt that something very significant was happening. Azula saw it from her vantage point in the bridge, and so did the elder Ursa, and both wondered what it meant. And Toph, hanging in the air, sensed the sudden blazing of the Moon, and stirred with a strange, half-conscious burst of hope that she barely understood.

And in the Spirit Oasis, while Sokka, Zuko and the children gaped in amazement, Katara kept forcing the healing energy into Aang with defiant ferocity. The water around her arms bubbled and boiled, and all at once Katara herself shed her frantic madness and became almost serene - as if her mind had slipped off into a trance.

Then, materializing out of thin air, there appeared the hazy, blinding white form of a lovely girl in flowing garments. Yue drew quietly downward on a beam of moonlight, hovering over Katara, and she reached out her hands gently toward Katara's shoulders. A moment later, the Moon Spirit seemed to become Katara herself, slipping inside of her as if the desperate Waterbender were a suit of armor or a winter coat.

Katara glowed.

Her blue eyes blazed with the blinding light of the Moon. And Yue, through Katara's own hands, gathered the life-giving water of the spirit pond and infused it with new energy, injecting it directly into Aang's motionless heart.

And then Aang breathed again, and his blood flowed again - and when it was done, Katara became herself again. And the Moon quietly returned to its usual place in the sky. The waters of the Oasis settled down once again into their tranquil glassiness, as if nothing had happened at all.

The entire strange scene only lasted for a few seconds, but it was more than enough. Sokka, Zuko and the children all found themselves wide-eyed and open-mouthed, unable to move, even for several moments after it had happened. And all around the city, people fell to their knees in awe and fear, wondering what extraordinary phenomenon had just occurred.

And then, without a word, Katara lifted her hands away from Aang, let the healing water slip from her fingers quietly into the grass, and simply collapsed. Fell flat onto her back beside him, staring into the sky in a daze, and just listened to the beautiful, glorious sound of him breathing again.

"I did it," she gasped after a moment. Then a small laugh of amazed triumph burst out of her. "It's over. He's alive! He's okay - He'll be okay - I did it - Ha! _I did it!_"

"I don't believe it," Zuko breathed.

Sokka was gazing up at the moon in wonder, with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and tears still lingering quietly in his eyes.

"Thanks, Yue," he whispered.

Katara began to laugh. She laughed loudly, then even louder, helpless to stop herself. The sound of her laughter reverberated through the Oasis.

Zuko glanced back at Tenzin and Ursa, who both looked too frightened and astonished to move. He offered a hand to them, and they both scrambled to their feet and ran, relieved to be safely clasped in his arms.

Sokka scrubbed some of the tears away from his face, and noticed suddenly that his nose was streaming blood and throbbing rather horribly - in fact, he realized, it was probably broken. He'd somehow been unaware of it until just then. But it didn't really matter at the moment. Katara had done it, and Aang was alive again. That was all that mattered. Sokka rose to his feet, legs a bit shaky, both crying and beaming uncontrollably at the same time.

"We should, uh," he began, his voice cracking hoarsely. "We should get him to the healing house right away. Here, help me carry him, Zuko."

Zuko nodded, and released the two children, standing up rather unsteadily as well. They stepped carefully over to where Katara lay, still laughing, alongside the unconscious, but definitely alive, Airbender. Zuko reached down and took Katara's hand, lifting her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, grinning dizzily, but managed to steady herself. Then Zuko lifted Aang's legs while Sokka took him by the shoulders, and they began to slowly, carefully, carry him away.

Katara just breathed for a second, unable to move. Then she stepped forward to follow them - but at the first step, as her foot touched the ground, her legs suddenly buckled from exhaustion.

Tenzin ran to her in alarm. "Momma!"

Sokka and Zuko stopped walking, looking at her worriedly. "Katara! Are you okay?" Sokka asked.

She waved her hand dismissively, placing it on her forehead for a moment. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine... Just a little woozy, that's all."

Zuko turned to Sokka. "Here, can you carry him by yourself?"

Sokka nodded. "I think I can manage. Come on, Aang! _Oof!_" Zuko released Aang's legs, and Sokka hoisted him up onto his shoulders, huffing with the effort.

And Zuko rushed quickly back to Katara, scooping her up out of the grass and carrying her in his arms. She didn't protest, too weary to do anything but breathe and cling to his neck. He followed Sokka and Aang over the eastern bridge, onto the path leading out of the Spirit Oasis. And Tenzin and Ursa trotted along behind Zuko, side by side, clutching each other's hands and staring at all the adults with expressions of shy admiration.

Katara still had tears streaming down her face, and small laughs were rippling out of her now and then in spurts.

"I did it, Zuko," she whispered as he carried her. "I did it."

Zuko just smiled at her softly, his own eyes still slightly wet. "I know, Katara," he whispered back. "You really did."

She craned her neck with great effort, looking over Zuko's shoulder down at Tenzin and Ursa.

"Tenzin, I did it!" she said. "Did you see?"

Tenzin nodded, beaming and sniffling. "I'm so proud of you, Momma!"

Katara laughed, and sobbed.

"Why are you crying?" Tenzin asked her, sobbing himself despite the broad smile on his face. He rubbed away a tear shakily.

Katara only laughed again. "Why are _you _crying?"

Tenzin giggled and hiccuped, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I dunno!" he exclaimed. Then he glanced at Ursa. "Why are _you _crying, Ursa?"

Ursa sniffled and scrubbed her face fiercely. "I don't know, but it won't stop!"

* * *

><p>"He needs to stay hydrated, and we've got to make sure he keeps breathing normally - someone should monitor his heart - did his eyes flutter? I thought I saw his eyes move? No, maybe not - well, when he wakes up we've got to make sure it's not too much of a shock for him - someone should be here at all times just in case - it could be any second now - Wait! Did he say something? I thought I heard - Did anyone else - ?"<p>

"_Katara._" Sokka grabbed his sister's arms and held her firmly in place.

They'd brought Aang to the great healing house near the Chief's Palace, and Chief Arnook himself had come to see that the newly recovered Avatar was given the finest room and the most highly skilled healers available. At the moment, they had placed Aang - still unconscious, but definitely still alive - in a massive bed, covered with several thick fur blankets. And approximately ten healers were hovering around him, assessing his condition and making sure that there was no serious damage that needed to be taken care of. All that seemed to be wrong with him now was, quite simply, the fact that his body was still dealing with the aftermath of transforming from that of a sixteen-year old to a twenty-one year old in a matter of minutes. Nothing more than that. But no one was entirely sure what kind of ramifications that sort of thing might have on one's health; it wasn't something they dealt with very often at the healing house.

From the moment she'd been able to use her legs again, Katara had not stopped moving. She'd been fluttering around the room, pacing, weaving frantically in and out of the other healers, pacing, sitting by the bed, clutching his hand, pacing, sitting again, standing again, and altogether making a nuisance of herself.

Sokka gave her a stern look. "Katara, stop. Calm down. You need to get some sleep. You're completely wrecked."

"No, I'm not tired!" she protested, despite the fact that her blurry eyes were clearly having a difficult time focusing on him properly. "I'm fine, Sokka! I'm perfect!"

Sokka almost laughed. If only she could see herself. Not only were her eyes bloodshot and crazed with exhaustion, her face was pallid, her hair was a wild, tangled mess, and she was somewhat covered in a strange, sticky, blackish goo that had crusted on her skin (which Sokka both didn't want to know about and was also _desperately _curious about). He'd never seen her in such a terrible state in his entire life.

"Katara, you look awful," he said bluntly. "Really. Go get washed up, and then _get some sleep_."

"But I can't!" she cried. "I can't leave! What if he wakes up?"

"If he wakes up and sees you looking like this, he might decide to go back to sleep."

"That's _really _not funny."

"Don't worry," he insisted, chuckling despite her resentful scowl. "He'll be fine. He's here now, and the healers are going to take good care of him."

"But - "

"And you're really in no shape to be helping right now, anyway. You've got to sleep."

"But - "

"Katara, I _order _you to take a bath and get some sleep!" Sokka stared her down with paternal severity.

She blinked at him, frowning indignantly. "Since when do _you _order _me _around?"

"Since today." Sokka smirked a little, and rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "Now go on. You've done more than enough, and you deserve a rest. Aang's not going anywhere."

Katara blinked at him again. And blinked. Her eyelids stuck together slightly the second time, and she still wasn't quite focusing on him right. Then she turned her head slowly, back towards Aang, and stared at him in a daze. After a quiet moment and a deep sigh, she stepped back over to the bed and took his hand, crushing it gently.

"Okay, Sokka," she breathed, unable to look away from Aang's face. "But - will you stay here and watch him until I get back?"

Sokka smiled a bit and shook his head slightly. "Sure, Katara," he sighed. "But, like I said, he's not going anywhere. I promise, he'll still be here when you wake up."

She turned her foggy gaze back towards him. "I know," she replied, after an uncertain pause. "But it would make me feel better."

Sokka grinned again, unable to stop himself, and carefully took her hand and pried her fingers away from Aang's. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the door.

"Whatever you want," he said. "Now, come on. Time for bed."

She kept her eyes glued to Aang, craning her neck to keep looking at him for as long as possible, as if she feared he would vanish the moment she looked away. Even when they'd passed through the open door and into the hallway, she resisted Sokka for a moment, fighting to keep Aang within her sight, and he had to give her a little extra nudge to make her finally tear her eyes away and turn the corner.

Then Katara sighed; once Aang was no longer in her immediate vicinity, the exhaustion finally hit her with full force.

"You know your nose is broken, right, Sokka?" she commented suddenly, yawning widely.

"Yes, I'd noticed. Thanks, Katara."

"Mm-hm." And she fell asleep right there, head on his shoulder, even as they kept walking.


	40. Vigil, Part One: Tremors

_Hey everyone! Happy Post-Christmas, Pre-New Year time! _:D

_Well, after an excruciatingly long December that I can honestly only describe as __brutal__, I'm finally back! I've now survived writing three 15-20 page papers + a short story in the span of two weeks, plus grading about 25 research papers, plus having my computer crash, missing my flight home, getting sick, and running out of money for Christmas shopping... among many other things. _*exhausted sigh*

_And now I'm back, whoo! – but unfortunately, thanks to all this real-life madness, I've been recently suffering from a strange case of creative constipation. All of your anxious reviews have just been killing me (in a good way) and I've been itching to upload something new for weeks! But I got myself into a slump where it seemed that everything I wrote was pointless crap. Which was part of why it took me so long to update... and also why I had that strange update fake-out yesterday, for those of you who noticed. (Yes, I uploaded this chapter and said to myself, "Well, there it is! It sucks, but there's nothing I can do about it now!" But then I had a minor panic attack and took it down, because I was sure I could make it much better... And, wouldn't you know it, I ended up changing a few things rather drastically, and I'm much happier with it now. So I'm glad I decided to take the previous version down, though I'm very sorry about that fake-out, haha. I promise, I won't do it again.) _^_^

_OK, just wanted to say three other things:_

_First: as usual, very sincere thanks for __all__ your reviews! You guys inspire me to try to overcome my creative constipation. Also, just an amazed observation: not only does this story now have over 300 reviews _(:O)_, but it also has more than my other Avatar fanfic, which I didn't think would ever happen! _*passes cookies out to everyone!*

_Second: despite everything I just said about being in a creative slump, the next 2-3 chapters after this one should be coming quite soon, because I have been writing all of them in bits and pieces over the past month. My task now is just to tie all the pieces together in a coherent way. So don't worry! There won't be another horrible month-long hiatus (Sorry about that again!) – which is good because there's a certain event I'm very anxious to get to, that won't happen for another couple of chapters, due to Reasons of Plot. *_sigh*

_Third... this story is still not even close to being over, ha! Just so you all know. _^_^

Mai: "Oh, admit it, you're just going to keep this story going forever, aren't you?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Ah, how I wish I could!... Hey, then you and me could keep chatting about pointless nonsense until the end of time! That would be fun, huh?" :D<br>Mai: -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "... No? Oh. OK, nevermind." :(<br>Mai: "Nothing personal. I'd just like to move on with my life at some point, if that's okay with you."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "... But you're dead." :  
>Mai: *<em>sigh<em>* "Just _had _to bring that up again, didn't you?"

* * *

><p><strong>VIGIL, PART ONE:<br>Tremors**

_Come back, Aang – come back –– I was ––– I was going to ––––_

– _Not a single one stayed to ––––––––––?__  
><em>_––––– If there's nothing wrong with him, then why hasn't he woken up yet?_

–––––––––– _I don't know if – maybe you're in there somewhere, and you can hear me ––_

Didn't I tell you we would meet again, young Avatar?

–––––––––––––––––––––––– _Come back, Aang ––– I was going to say ––_

– _I have to know that he's still here ––––__  
><em>_––––––––––––––––––––– If he wakes up and I'm not –––_

It's a shame you're no longer a child

_I just don't even want to waste a second, you know?_

_Aang, did you even –––?__  
><em>_––––––––––––––––– And what would I do instead? ––__  
><em>_––––––– I won't let you die. I'll save you –––__  
><em>_–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– I don't think you thought about it at all. You were just following your feelings ––– Isn't that right?__  
><em>_–––––––––––––––––––––––––––– you've got this idealized picture of us in your head –– you just can't see it won't –––––!_

–– _going to say yes__  
><em>_––––––––––––––––– it won't work._

_He'll be all right.__  
><em>_He's strong. You know he is._

_I just need to be by myself for a little while, okay?__  
><em>_–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– come back, Aang –––– come back –– I was_

_Aang__  
><em>_Aang, it's me. Can you hear me?_

_Wake up_

* * *

><p>Only two and a half hours after Sokka had sent her off to bed, Katara awoke again, too anxious to sleep.<p>

The entire world was immersed in the depths of nighttime darkness outside the small window, even though the morning was due to arrive soon. And Katara refused to drift away. The healing house's beds were quite comfortable – the little room they'd been given for the night was restful and quaint – but she wouldn't sleep. Tenzin lay curled up beside her on one of the two beds in the room, breathing softly and evenly. Across the room on the other bed, Ursa lay sleeping beside Zuko.

But Katara wouldn't. She couldn't sleep. Not now.

Thinking she was being quite discreet, she slipped out of her bed, careful not to disturb Tenzin; he moaned faintly and stirred, clutching at the fur blankets tighter, but didn't awaken.

For a second, Katara hesitated, longing to bring him with her. But at last she decided that it was more important for him to get his sleep than for her to have his company. So she left him in the bed for now, slipping quietly out of the door and into the empty corridor of the healing house, pulling her coat around herself tightly in the chilly air.

The children slept on, but Zuko – lying in the darkness with his eyes open – heard Katara stirring, and saw her get up and sneak out of the room.

He didn't follow after her. He stayed there, lying beside Ursa: she was sprawled out on top of his arm and, despite the fact that she was cutting off the circulation to his fingers, he couldn't bear to make her move. But even regardless of his reluctance to disturb Ursa, he wouldn't have followed Katara. What was the point? He already knew where she was going.

Would Aang be awake when she got there? he wondered.

If he wasn't awake, how long would she sit waiting for him? Would she remember that there were others who needed her in the meantime? Tenzin especially, and Ursa. And...

Would she remember anyone else, now that Aang was back?

With a heavy, creaky feeling, Zuko turned his head and gazed through the darkness in the direction of Tenzin, who now lay sleeping alone on the other bed, breathing loudly.

Zuko wondered – he and Katara and Tenzin – who would they all become to one another, now that Aang was back?

He wondered whether he would find a place for himself with Katara and Tenzin after all – or if he'd only get pushed out, tossed aside, now that he was no longer needed.

Then he felt angry at himself for thinking such things, and quickly shut his eyes and shut off his thoughts – before they led him down into darker, angrier, less controllable spirals. He had to stop – he had to _stop _this. He had to let it go. He'd already decided this days ago, hadn't he? – that he was going to let it all go? He'd thought he was doing better than this. He'd thought that _he_ was better than this. He wasn't going to hold on anymore.

No, no – he wasn't. He was letting it go.

He was letting it go.

* * *

><p>Katara trotted breathlessly down the halls, past many doors to Aang's room. But her fingers trembled violently when she touched the doorknob, and she couldn't bring herself to open the door.<p>

Suppose she went inside, and he wasn't there?

What if he'd woken up while she was gone, and had just walked out – lost his way in the North Pole, or maybe found Appa out behind the healing house and flown off, to who knew where?

Or – what she dreaded more than anything – suppose the whole thing had just been a dream? Suppose she'd never gone to the Spirit World, never found him, never fought the Face Stealer, never brought Aang back? And if she were to walk into the room now, she would find nothing but an empty bed – or maybe a bed with a complete stranger lying in it – ?

Or, suppose the Face Stealer had survived the injury she'd given him, and he came back now to take revenge? Suppose he was there in that room with Aang, waiting for her? – Or suppose she walked in and found Aang lying there, faceless – his horrifyingly blank, featureless flesh exposed in the eerie moonlight – ?

She clutched the doorknob, shaking so ferociously that her knuckles knocked against the door, and the doorknob rattled in her tightly clenched fist. She had to go in, she had to, but she couldn't open the door. A small whimper burst out of her, out of the cold depths of her stomach, and she felt an icy bead of sweat crawling down her brow.

But suddenly, the door opened on its own – jerking open so abruptly that Katara nearly jumped out of her skin, and she had to stifle a small shriek.

Sokka stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His broken nose was now covered with a rather unsightly bandage, and when he spoke his voice sounded nasally; he gave Katara a perplexed frown.

"Katara," he murmured, "what are you doing out here? Why were you rattling the doorknob like that?"

She flushed, fidgeting restlessly. "Is he awake?"

"Uh, no, not yet, but – "

She pushed impatiently past Sokka into the room, desperate to see him for herself.

Aang was still there – still lying in the bed, eyes closed, breathing slowly. His face was turned slightly away from the door, toward the window on the opposite wall of the room, and the gray moonlight fell over him in a ghostly square. His brow looked slightly furrowed, as if he were troubled by unhappy dreams; one of his hands rested on top of the covers, fingers dangling slightly over the edge of the bed.

Katara released a deep, thorough, soul-unburdening sigh at the sight of him, and trembled again, but not with dread this time.

"He's still here," she breathed, and brushed a quivering hand across her face quickly, to stabilize herself. An unsteady smile, faltering under the weight of the overpowering relief and happiness, broke out across her face.

"Katara, I thought you were going to get some sleep?" Sokka muttered, yawning.

"I already did."

"What, for like an _hour_? Are you – ?" his voice began to grow rather stern, but Katara cut him off.

"Where are all the healers?" she demanded, striding across to the bed and reaching for Aang's hand. "Shouldn't they be keeping an eye on him? What are they doing?"

"Well, uh, most of them are probably _sleeping_," Sokka replied, rather dryly, and Katara could hear in his voice that he was rolling his eyes. "Unlike someone else I could – "

"Not a single one stayed to look after him?" she scowled furiously, ignoring his sarcasm.

Sokka sighed. "Someone was in here not that long ago. But there's nothing wrong with him, Katara. What do you want them to do?"

She glowered at him over her shoulder. "If there's nothing wrong with him, then why hasn't he woken up yet?"

Sokka could only stare at her helplessly for a moment, finally shrugging. "Look, why are you asking me? You know I don't know. I don't think anyone knows. But they've all said that he's fine. We just have to wait for him to wake up, that's all. In the meantime, there's not really much else to do."

With a frown of dissatisfaction, Katara turned her gaze back to Aang, seating herself on the edge of the bed and caressing his fingers quietly for a moment. She felt his pulse beating normally; his breathing seemed regular. When she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, she didn't feel any signs of a fever. He seemed fine. So why hadn't he woken up yet?

"Hey, Katara," Sokka began again, with less conviction than before, "I don't mean to bug you about this, but really – you can't have gotten more than two hours of sleep – "

"He hasn't shown any signs of waking up at all?" she asked, ignoring him again.

Sokka sighed, with obvious frustration at her. "No, nothing yet. He will soon, though. But right now you really need to – "

"You can go now, Sokka. I'll watch him," she declared, in a tone that meant there was no use in his trying to argue. "Could you please go keep an eye on Tenzin for me? I left him in the room with Zuko. He was asleep and I didn't want to wake him. He needs his rest."

"Yeah, you know who else needs more sl – ?"

"And if he wakes up before Aang does, could you bring him in here? I'd like him to be here."

Sokka sighed again, in defeat. Then he chuckled softly – it wasn't going to be any use to try to keep Katara away from Aang, it seemed, even if it was for her own good. There was no point in fighting her about it. And Sokka didn't like having to be the strict one, anyway.

"Okay, fine, Katara," he finally said, with another yawn. "I'll go keep an eye on Tenzin, then."

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and gave him such a genuinely happy, appreciative smile, that he actually felt glad that he'd given up trying to make her sleep – even if she still needed to.

"As long as you promise me you'll try to sleep at _some _point," he added, as she looked back at Aang.

"I already did."

"I mean, _actually _sleep. As in, for more than an hour or so at a time."

She started to turn her head, to look at him, but faltered – letting her eyes rest uncertainly on the floor instead. "I – I can't sleep now, Sokka," she finally whispered sheepishly. "I know I should. I tried to, I really did. But I just can't."

Sokka studied her, studied the rather abashed droop of her eyelids, and the anxious way she looked back at Aang's sleeping form. After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head. "So you can't sleep when he's gone, and you can't sleep when he's here. When _are _you going to sleep, Katara?"

She hesitated. "After he wakes up. I'll sleep then."

Sokka rolled his eyes, with a soft chuckle. "Yeah. Why do I doubt that?"

Katara heaved a deep sigh. "Sokka – please, just... I need to be here. I have to know that he's still here. If he wakes up and I'm not here..."

She trailed off briefly, gazing at Aang and clutching his hand in both of hers. Sokka couldn't see her face, but he did think he could almost see the glow that beamed from the intensity of her stare.

"I just don't even want to waste a second, you know?" she finally finished, in a hush.

Sokka smiled slightly; he couldn't help it. There was something honestly beautiful about the moonlit scene – Katara's quiet impatience, her refusal to stay away; and Aang simply lying there, as normal as could be, after not existing for five years. Sokka wouldn't have admitted it, but the idea of Aang and Katara being together again at last, after such a long time, filled him with a light kind of giddiness.

Yet at the same time, something troubled him – something that he was too tired at the moment to fully ponder. Something that, nevertheless, made quiet tremors in his heart as he observed the way his sister perched on the edge of the bed, the pressure with which she held Aang's hand tightly trapped in her fingers, the way she hovered over the Airbender like a cat ready to pounce... And, conversely, the way Aang just lay there sleeping – dreaming – oblivious – with no idea what awaited him on his return to the waking world. It was a troubling something that blustered and fretted in Sokka's sleepy mind, insisting that Aang's awakening might not bring the instant, rejuvenating, world-fixing happiness that he could tell Katara was desperately waiting for. She was looking _too _forward to it – so much so that Sokka feared Aang was almost doomed to disappoint her when he finally did open his eyes.

And what about Aang – how was _he_ going to handle everything when he woke up? What would he know – what would he remember? Would he be aware that he'd been gone for five years, or would it seem to him as if he'd only slept a night? Would he know that he'd had his face stolen? Would he know that Katara had brought him back? Would he know anything at all – would he remember who he was? Would he remember any of them? Would he remember Katara? What if he didn't? What if all of that was just _gone_, wiped clean?

And if he did remember, then what would be his last memory? What would be his last memory of Katara? Probably the last thing he'd remember would be her rejection of his proposal. That worried Sokka as well. What would it be like for him, to wake up with that unhappy memory fresh in his mind, only to be immediately assaulted by Katara gushing over him? Sokka couldn't even imagine how Aang would feel then, but the word _whiplash _certainly seemed relevant. Suppose he didn't handle it well? Especially on top of the barrage of other things that he'd be hit with all at once: suddenly having a five-year old son, suddenly finding out about Yonten and the other Airbenders, suddenly finding out that Katara had been living with Zuko all during his absence...

Suddenly finding out that five years of his life were _gone_...

Sokka grimaced. The more he thought about it, the more certain he felt that it wasn't going to be very pretty, no matter how it was handled. Perhaps Sokka's worries sprang from some kind of premonition – some instinct. Perhaps it was simply the fear that this was all too easy, too good to be true. Perhaps it was nothing more than Sokka's own knee-jerk skepticism, his distrust of anything that felt too optimistically ideal.

Or, perhaps Sokka was just tired, and thus being overly pessimistic. He yawned. It was certainly possible.

But even still, as he yawned, and reached for the door, and lingered on the threshold for a moment, glancing back at Katara and Aang in the hazy moonlight – the way Katara almost visibly tremored with impatience for Aang to wake up, so anxious, so hopeful – Sokka's heart broke a little.

"Katara?" he finally murmured.

"Mm-hm?"

"Listen, I know you're excited for Aang to wake up. I am too. But – "

He paused, unsure how to say what he meant. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her blue eyes glistening curiously.

"Just – be careful not to freak him out, okay?"

She furrowed her brow at him rather defensively. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he sighed, scratching his head awkwardly, "I've been thinking, he's probably gonna have a pretty tough time when he wakes up. You know, just trying to – readjust. Just keep that in mind, okay? He might, uh... he might need some space for a little while. You know?"

"Sokka, I'm sure he'll be fine," she said, with a dismissive smile. "I know it might be a little hard for him at first, but he'll be all right. He's strong. You know he is."

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing again. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean he's going to be just fine right away. It might take some time – "

"Look, what is it that you're so worried about?" she demanded, frowning at him, and clearly growing a little irritable. "He's here now, isn't he? That's all that matters. Why are you acting so paranoid?"

He scrutinized her, hesitating, considering – but finally shrugged, deciding that perhaps it was best to keep his worries to himself for now.

"I just," he admitted, carefully, "I really don't want there to be any, uh... problems between you two."

Katara glowered. "What do you mean? Why would there be?"

Sokka sighed yet again, and gave her a beseeching look. "Katara, just – will you please promise me that you'll give him his space when he wakes up, if he needs it? Please?"

She furrowed her brow at him, as if he were talking nothing but ludicrous nonsense. But finally she rolled her eyes and nodded, humoring him.

"Sure, Sokka, whatever you say." She shook her head. "But I wish you'd stop worrying. It's going to be fine – he'll wake up soon, and it's all going to be fine then."

Nervousness brewing all over again, Sokka watched her for a moment longer, almost beginning to think that he perhaps ought to stay in the room with her after all – almost beginning to fear that leaving Katara alone with Aang at this point might turn out unintentionally disastrous. But he exhaled heavily, and rubbed his forehead, and smothered down his anxiety.

"I hope you're right," he muttered at last. "See you in a little while, Katara."

As he finally left the room, he pulled the door closed behind him.

He yawned, rubbing his eyes wearily, careful not to touch his tender broken nose, and turned off in the direction of the room where Zuko and the kids were still sleeping. But to his surprise, only a short distance down the hall, a small sleepy figure stood, also yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Where's 'omma?" Tenzin asked faintly through his yawn, blinking heavily at Sokka.

Sokka quickly stepped across to the little Airbender and scooped him into his arms. "She's in the room with Avatar Aang. What are you doing up, pal? It's the middle of the night."

"'s he wake yet?" Tenzin mumbled eagerly, blinking more forcefully to try to rouse himself back to full wakefulness. "Did he – ? Can I go see?"

"No, he's still asleep," Sokka sighed. "And you should be, too. Come on, back to bed. You can see Avatar Aang in the morning, okay?"

* * *

><p>Katara peered over her shoulder, watching Sokka go. The door grumbled shut, and the darkness in the room grew more thorough – but that only made the moonlight shining through the window seem all the brighter. It fell past Katara's shoulder onto the bed, partially illuminating the sleeping Avatar's faintly bewildered frown. Dusty silence, thick and insulating like a fur blanket, seeped into the walls and the floor and swaddled the entire room. Aang's breaths rasped softly, steadily, in and out. Katara sat on the bed and simply looked at him for a few minutes, unaware of her own breathing.<p>

She still couldn't believe how exactly the same he looked – how familiar and normal, as if he'd never been gone at all. It almost felt unbelievable that it had really been five years since she'd last seen his face. It almost felt absurd that, for the better part of the past five years, she'd been so convinced that he was gone forever – how could she ever have thought so? He was right here, just the same as he'd always been. The same – yet, there were small changes now. He'd grown, he'd aged. The missing five years had settled calmly over him, settled into his features. His cheekbones were more defined, his jaw was a bit sharper, his brow was maybe slightly broader.

She wished desperately that he would open his eyes, just so that she could see that they hadn't changed. That his joyful goodness was still intact, had survived the ordeal unbroken.

"Aang," she whispered, touching his face, assuring herself for the millionth time that it was real – gliding her fingers over the places where the moonlight washed over him. "Aang, it's me. Can you hear me?"

He slept on, breathing quietly.

She clutched his hand, squeezed it tightly, held it close to her heart and then to her face, exhaling pensively and impatiently on his fingers. Then she leaned down and pressed her brow against his, and kissed his cheek, and simply whispered,

"Wake up."

* * *

><p><em>Wake up, Aunt Sen<em>.

Ursa murmured restlessly, shuddering with the sensation of cold, blistering despair.

_Aunt Sen, wake up. You're having a dream_.

"I am?" she whispered hoarsely to the darkness, refusing to open her eyes – squeezing them shut tighter, in fact. Afraid of what she'd see if she opened them.

_Yes_, said the voice – a boy's voice, grave and soft. _You've been dreaming. You need to wake up now_.

At last, she dared to open her eyes. It took a moment for her sight to adjust, and for a long while afterward a faint blurriness still lingered in the corners of her eyes – but she looked around, and took in the golden forest light, and saw the thick, gnarled trees towering over her, and the small particles that swirled in the scattered shafts of morning sun. She was lying on the ground in a heap, curled into herself. And Yonten – only about twelve or thirteen years old – stood over her, looking down upon her face intently. His own expression was grim and rather sad, and in his hands he held a broken glider, its main shaft split and crooked.

She only stared at him for a moment. Her heart pounded hopefully. It was the familiar forest, the familiar ground – the familiar paradise she'd come to be so comfortable with. The Lion Turtle. She was lying on the ground, and it was hard, as always – but strangely cold. Something was just slightly off. The usual pulse of the Lion Turtle was more of a distant, constant vibration rather than a gentle rhythm, thundering deep in the island's bowels. And she couldn't smell the golden timelessness of the air either. In fact, everything smelled very wrong. Not the smell of trees, fruit, summer, light, ancientness – no. It all smelled of metal and tears and blood, and there was a sour taste in her mouth.

But – but – she was _here_.

She was here again, on the Lion Turtle. She'd never left after all. It had only been a dream! Her bones shuddered with relief and gratefulness, and pure concentrated joy. The only thing that tainted her happiness was the smell – she craved the smell of the old familiar air, both ancient and fresh – craved it with sharp, bitter grief, and couldn't understand why it smelled different now. But still, she was _here_. She'd never left. She'd never abandoned the Airbenders. She'd never forsaken this beautiful place, or resigned herself to living without it for the rest of her days. She'd never hidden from Zuko, lurking like a coward; she'd never discovered his scar or his suffering – she'd dreamed it all. Perhaps he had no scar; perhaps he hadn't suffered.

And she'd never – she'd never faced Azula. She'd never really seen her daughter. Her daughter hadn't really become a monster. And Ursa had never betrayed her, coaxed out her trust only to trample it and confirm all of the horrible things Azula already thought. And she wasn't currently trapped on a doomed ship, waiting to die, waiting for Azula to kill her.

None of that had happened. She was on the Lion Turtle, with Yonten – just as she'd always been. She'd only dreamed everything else. The overwhelming relief nearly broke her heart.

"Yonten," she whispered, pushing herself up off the ground, until she was halfway sitting. She reached out for the boy, touching his arm. "Darling, why do you look so sad? And what happened to your glider?"

Yonten – young again but not, caught between childish innocence and burgeoning maturity – gazed at her very solemnly, very remorsefully, for a very long time. Then he glanced at the broken glider in his hands. Then he sighed.

Whispered, in a hoarse, broken hush: "We shouldn't have left, Aunt Sen."

Ursa blinked at him for a second, bewildered, churning with sudden dread. Then another voice spoke, from somewhere behind her – another familiar voice: that of an older woman.

"You shouldn't have left," said Tseten.

Whirling around, startled, Ursa gaped at the ancient Airbender, her dear old friend and caretaker, with her long silver-white hair, her broad tattooed brow wise with deep wrinkles, her normally mirthful gray eyes now cold and somber. Tseten was standing slightly above herself and Yonten, a slight distance away, in the center of the great clearing at the crown of the Lion Turtle's back. She was staring intently at Ursa, with a strangely severe and sorrowful expression, similar to Yonten's. Behind Tseten stood all the other Airbenders – Gendun, Sangmu, Nam Kha, Opame – all of them, her friends, her old family. All gathered in that clearing at the top of the island, gazing gravely at her with the same sad and distrustful eyes.

Ursa gaped at the crowd of Airbenders. Then looked back at Yonten. He was staring at the others as well, but after a moment he turned his eyes toward her, and something in his expression made Ursa acutely aware that the two of them – she and Yonten – they were on the outside, separate from the other Airbenders, and there was no hope for either of them to join the group in the clearing.

"You shouldn't have left," Tseten said again, with an uncharacteristic broken fierceness in her tone that made Ursa's heart quiver and quail.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Ursa gasped, flushing, overwhelmed with shame, with bewildered indignation, and with the horrible cold feeling of despair again. The knowledge that nothing she could say or do now would fix things and make them love her – or even accept her – again.

"It was a mistake," murmured Yonten, letting his eyes drop languidly to the ground. "We shouldn't have left."

Ursa's own eyes suddenly welled with half-angry, half-heartbroken tears. She could handle being an outcast for her own sake, but she couldn't bear to see him in such a despondent state. Scrambling up onto her knees, she pulled him into her arms and held him tightly against her chest. His broken glider clattered against her back.

"Sweetheart, no," she gasped. "Don't say that! We didn't – we couldn't have known! We did our best, that's all – "

"But look at all that's happening now," he whispered resignedly, heaving a deep sigh. "And we can't ever go back. It's all gone, forever. It's over. This is it, now... We should have just stayed."

"Why _did_ you come back, anyway?" asked another boy's voice, from somewhere off to Ursa's right. The voice was younger than Yonten's – and somehow it had the power to instantly crush her heart.

She pulled her teary eyes out of Yonten's shoulder and scanned the trees desperately for the young speaker, at last spotting him where he stood just a short distance away, shaded in the thick foliage. Zuko looked as if he were only about eight years old – the same age as when she first abandoned him – but the left side of his young, innocent face was consumed by a boiling, vicious scar, and his amber eyes gazed at her bitterly.

"Zuko – " she stammered breathlessly.

He took a step back defensively, glowering at her with unbearable resentment. "Why'd you come back at all, mom?" he scowled. "If you're just going to let it end like this – if you're just going to leave me again..." He looked away, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw. "It would have been better if you'd just stayed where you were."

He spoke these last words in a soft, piercing whisper, and turned his eyes up toward her once again, staring straight into her soul, without blinking. Her hands trembled.

"I'm – I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she rasped, suffocating in miserable shame and heartbreak, while tears rolled painfully down her cheeks. She couldn't bear it – she couldn't bear to hear these words from Zuko, or to see him look at her like that. Not Zuko.

Yonten put a hand on her shoulder.

Ursa began to sob violently. "I'm sorry – Zuko, I've only – I've only done my best. I didn't know – I didn't mean to – "

"He can't hear you, Aunt Sen," said Yonten gently.

"It would have been better," Tseten spoke again suddenly, "if you'd just stayed where you were."

The golden light dimmed very abruptly, as if a thick cloud were hovering over the island. The Airbenders all stood in the shadowy clearing in mournful silence, their eyes all turned very deliberately away. And Ursa looked toward Zuko, and saw that his back was now turned to her, half-obscured in the thick shadows of the trees.

Helpless, she looked to young Yonten beside her. He still held his broken glider, and his gray eyes stared straight through her into nothing, in a bewildered fog.

"Now we belong nowhere, Aunt Sen," he whispered somberly. "We are no one's."

"Yonten," she choked, powerless to control the tears streaming down her face. The air grew darker.

"This is how it will end," he declared.

"No," she protested feebly.

"Stop talking," Zuko commanded suddenly, still standing with his back turned to them, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees.

"Nowhere," said Tseten, also turning her back to Ursa and Yonten.

"No one's," said all the other Airbenders, and one by one they each turned their backs on them.

"Stop that noise, mother," Zuko spat fiercely, still not looking at her. His voice sounded strangely furious, and dark, and savage.

Waves of inky shadows pulsed through the forest around her. The Lion Turtle rumbled mechanically.

Ursa quivered with horror and dread, eyes darting between Zuko's back, Yonten's despairingly blank eyes, and the backs of all the Airbenders.

Suddenly Yonten fixed her with an intent and pleading gaze, as if he was waiting for her to come to some conclusion or epiphany – perhaps to understand his own despair and surrender to it herself – or perhaps to see why all this was happening now. Or –

– to realize that something was missing. _Someone _was missing.

A cold chill came over Ursa. "Where's... where's Azula?"

Almost the instant that her daughter's name left her lips, the darkening air shattered with vicious, blinding electricity. A storm of lightning erupted, bursting seemingly from out of the trees, out of the ground, out of the Lion Turtle – from every direction. Inescapable. As if the island, the Lion Turtle itself, were trying to wipe them all out.

Ursa leaped to her feet in a panic, grabbing Yonten by the hand and darting off towards Zuko as quickly as she could. As she ran, she watched in horror as all the Airbenders in the clearing began to fall, one by one – victims of the lightning storm – without a single protest, without the slightest effort to save themselves. Tseten fell last, in a crumpled heap, the life ripped from her gentle eyes. Ursa screamed with grief and horror, dragging Yonten away from the horrible massacre, desperate to get both him and Zuko to safety.

But Zuko was gone. He wasn't standing where she'd thought. He'd vanished into the dark shadows of the trees. Maybe he'd run off without her. Maybe he didn't want her protection. Maybe he was better off without her. Ursa wept.

But she kept running, still clutching Yonten – who seemed half-asleep, possibly dazed or numb with the shock of the other Airbenders' sudden deaths – pushing her way through the forest, while lightning continued to crack all around them.

"Zuko!" she screamed desperately. "Zuko! Where are you? Please! I'm sorry!"

But no, he was gone. And suddenly, directly in her path, almost materializing from the trees like a ghost, was Azula. She, too, looked very young – maybe seven at most – but she was filthy and ragged, her skin scratched to bleeding by her own fingernails, her hair wild and torn. And that savage, cunning spark of unreality was creeping in her eyes, and in her sneer.

"Azula!" Ursa cried, suddenly understanding that it was Azula who had caused the lightning – Azula who had murdered all the Airbenders, who had destroyed everything, and who was going to murder _her _now, and Yonten. Ursa didn't fear for herself – she'd been expecting that Azula would kill her at some point. But not Yonten – no, she couldn't let her hurt him. And where was Zuko? Had Azula already found Zuko? What had she done to him? – Ursa couldn't bear to even think of it.

"Wake up, mother," Azula commanded sharply, with a vicious scowl. "You're dreaming."

"Where's Zuko?" Ursa shrieked furiously, pulling Yonten protectively close to her.

"Stop that noise!" Azula growled. "Wake up."

"No!" The wild notion that she couldn't wake up yet – she couldn't leave without knowing Zuko was safe – filled her with frantic rage. "Tell me where Zuko is _now_, Azula! What have you done with him? You haven't hurt him, have you?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "Oh, it's always about _Zuko_, isn't it, mother? You've never worried about _me _like that. You don't care about me at all, actually. You even care about those Airbenders more than me – that one you've got there in your hands now. Even he's more precious to you than I am. Isn't that right?"

"Azula – " Ursa cried beseechingly, falling to her knees and holding Yonten close to her chest, terrified of what Azula would do to him. "Please, listen to me – !"

"Well, the Airbenders are all _gone_ now, mother," Azula stated. "Almost all of them, at least."

Ursa did her best to shield Yonten with herself, and wept for all the dear Airbenders, all her friends – gone forever. Then without warning, the wild-eyed little girl, hair flying, threw her hands forward violently – and a bolt of lightning flew from her fingers. Ursa clutched Yonten and screamed in horror as she felt the lightning bolt hit him – though somehow she herself did not get electrocuted. But she felt his body jolt with the deadly surge of electricity, and she felt the weight in her arms as the boy collapsed. His broken glider clattered to the ground, and its shaft finally snapped completely in two.

"_Azula!_" Ursa shrieked wildly, cradling Yonten's limp body in her trembling arms, holding him and rocking him and sobbing, quivering with rage and grief and hatred – hatred – bitter hatred, though not quite for Azula. She still loved Azula – she couldn't help it, she couldn't help it – and she hated herself for loving Azula, and for not doing enough to stop Azula from becoming the destructive, loveless creature she was, and for not protecting Yonten and Zuko and the other Airbenders from the daughter that she still couldn't help but bitterly love.

"Why? _Why_?" Ursa sobbed. "Why would you – ? How could – ? _Why are you like this?_"

Azula only stared at her, at the dead Airbender boy in her arms, with a look of cold, remorseless apathy.

"You should have just left well enough alone, mother," she finally whispered.

Ursa moaned and wept, still rocking Yonten's lifeless body, still scanning the trees frantically for Zuko – for one last futile shred of hope that at least _he _would make it, even if Azula destroyed everything else in the world.

"Why are you like this, Azula?" she finally wheezed again, barely able to speak through her tears.

_GR-R-REE-EECH!_

An enormous and terrible sound, like screeching iron thunder, ruptured the air, and a violent tremor suddenly shook the entire island, as if the Lion Turtle were shuddering with pain. Azula nearly lost her balance, and Ursa held Yonten tightly and trembled.

"What was that?" Ursa cried in dread.

"Shut up, mother!" Azula snapped ferociously, eyes darting around in barely suppressed panic. "You're dreaming! Wake up! Wake up now!"

"No!" Ursa roared, clenching her teeth. "I can't! I – I can't! What about Zuko?"

The next second, Azula stepped toward her, taking impatiently hasty steps, and slapped her sharply across the face.

Ursa cried out in surprise and pain, and gawked up blankly at Azula – who was older now, towering over her. The rotting smell of metal and tears and blood, Ursa now realized, was just the smell of the bridge, and her nostrils flooded with recognition and awareness. Of course – she wasn't on the Lion Turtle. She was on the ship, in the bridge with Azula; she'd been here the entire time. She should have known. The hard cold surface she was lying on wasn't the Lion Turtle's back, but the cold metal floor. The steady distant vibration around her wasn't the Lion Turtle's heartbeat, but the mechanical rumbling of the engines. And Azula wasn't a child, but a woman – and she was standing over Ursa, with the pale arctic sunlight streaming through the broken window behind her, making her into a hazy-edged silhouette of herself.

"You were talking in your sleep," Azula muttered, returning to her post at the window.

Ursa trembled, trying to reach up and touch her cheek, which throbbed from Azula's hard slap – but her chains rattled when she tried to move, holding her limbs in place, and she remembered that she was a prisoner now. She was Azula's prisoner, up here in the bridge, and they were almost to the North Pole. Yonten wasn't here, or Zuko, or the other Airbenders. Only Azula, and the captured ship's officers.

There was a small burst of relief at this realization. Zuko, Yonten, the Airbenders – they were all fine. They hadn't been hurt or killed, as she'd thought. Ursa almost wept with relief; it had all seemed so real in her dream. She'd been so certain that all of them were gone.

But her relief was quickly followed by a deep surge of regret and loneliness. She was trapped here alone, with Azula, waiting to die. She would never see any of them again – probably not even Yonten, though he was still on the ship with her. Azula would surely kill Ursa before she had a chance to see any of the other passengers on the ship again. And as for Zuko – of course she'd be long dead before she even came close to being reunited with him. The thought of it was almost too terrible for her to handle: how would Zuko react to her death at the hands of Azula? What thoughts, what emotions, would pass through him when he discovered her fate – when he found out that she'd died, almost immediately after coming back into his life? Ursa quivered, struggling to hold back the tears that so urgently wanted to fall. It would have been better for him if she'd never come back in the first place, or if she'd never shown herself to him. Now he would only suffer a grief and pain ten times worse than what he would have endured had she never returned at all. But she could do nothing to stop it, or to warn him somehow – or even to say good-bye to him, the way she'd done when she left him the first time.

And the Airbenders. Well, they would never know what had become of her. They were forever out of her reach, regardless of what happened to her now.

"Azula," Ursa wheezed dizzily, her throat dry and cracked with thirst, "what – what's happening now? Where are we?"

"Shut up," Azula hissed, without looking at her.

Perhaps because she was half-delusional with hunger, dehydration and misery – or perhaps because she simply didn't care what Azula did to her at this point – Ursa didn't shut up.

"What was that noise earlier?" she rasped. "I felt a shudder, and there was a noise..."

"Nothing. It was nothing."

"Is the ship sinking?"

Azula scoffed. "_No_, don't be ridiculous." But the razor-sharp defensiveness in her voice made Ursa doubtful. "I told you to shut up, mother."

"Maybe we ought to check the ship," one of the captive crew members suggested, in a tentative voice.

Ursa craned her neck back, to look at the others from her awkward sprawling vantage point on the floor, and she saw through her blurry eyes that everyone in the room was darting rather frantic looks at one another.

Azula clenched her fists and ground her teeth viciously, without looking at them. But she didn't speak.

"We're not going to make it to the North Pole if there's been serious damage," the man tried again tremulously. "We need to find out where it hit, how bad the – "

"It's nothing," Azula snarled softly. Her fingernails burrowed frantically into her skin. "No one's going anywhere."

"But at the speed we're going – " he continued.

Without another word, Azula whirled on him, and a stream of blue fire burst from her fist. It hit the man full force, and while Ursa shut her eyes tightly in horror, and the other captives in the room all screamed in fear and did their best to turn away and shield themselves from the flames, he shrieked in pain. His skin boiled and sizzled, and the fire lingered in his hair and on his clothes. He thrashed in agony, only hurting himself worse against the ropes that held him. And everyone else could only look on in helpless pity.

"The ship is fine!" Azula proclaimed in a voice of mad, thunderous rage. "We didn't hit anything, and we _aren't _slowing down! I'm going to get to the North Pole _today_, and no one is going to stop me! And if any of the rest of you try to distract me or trick me into letting you free, I swear you'll wish you'd never been born! Am I understood?"

No one said a word.

Azula turned back to the window, quivering head to toe.

Ursa lay on the ground and studied her daughter for a very long time, allowing a few numb, silent tears to fall. At last, she whispered hoarsely, "Azula."

Azula didn't reply, or even react.

"Azula..."

Utter silence.

"Sweetheart, listen – "

"Did you _want _something, mother?"

Ursa shuddered, with a rasping sob, and her tears burned her face. "I only... I only wish you'd stop this. Please."

"I can't stop now."

A hopeless sigh drifted out of Ursa then, and she let her head lie limply against the floor, with her tear-stained face pressed against the cold metal.

"When are you going to kill me?" she whispered.

Azula didn't answer. And her mother didn't have the strength to ask a second time.

Azula didn't answer, because she didn't know. She didn't know why she hadn't killed Ursa already. She didn't know what was stopping her from killing Ursa now.

Perhaps she kept Ursa alive because it didn't matter – the ship was going to be destroyed eventually, and everyone on it would die. What did it matter if Azula killed Ursa now, or then? It wasn't as if Ursa posed any kind of threat, after all.

Or, perhaps, she kept Ursa alive because she wanted to kill her somewhere meaningful – somewhere with an audience. With someone else present to witness Ursa's death, other than these useless officers. She wanted Uncle to see, and that strange Airbender Ursa seemed so fond of. But more than them, she wanted _Zuko _to see it. If Azula could pull that off, somehow doing it where Zuko would see, then enduring her mother's existence for a while longer would be more than worth it.

Yes, that was why. That was why she waited.

Or – maybe.

Maybe, maybe Azula simply _couldn't_ kill her mother. Because even still, even now, even after everything that had happened – she still wasn't entirely sure that her mother actually _did _exist. And that uncertainty stripped Azula of the assurance she needed to dispose of the woman. Because if Ursa wasn't real after all – if she was only a figment of Azula's mind, even only a small figment, a partial figment – if that was the case, then killing Ursa somehow would feel like murdering a small part of herself.

And Azula just couldn't risk that.

The problem was, she couldn't know. She couldn't know for sure. And that made her angry. It made her _furious_. It made her afraid.

Azula just needed to get off this accursed ship as soon as possible. Then she'd be fine. She only needed to get to the North Pole. She needed to get there, and obliterate this ship and everyone on it, and carry on with her plan just as surely as before. This ship was a floating nightmare – a prison. A prison of uncertainty and unreality, with an uncontrollable will of its own. It had to go.

* * *

><p>"Now, listen very carefully," Iroh said, with a somber frown. "I know this may seem crazy – impossible, even. You may want to give up, perhaps many times. But you mustn't surrender. You must keep going! Understand? No matter how far it is, or how difficult the journey may be – you have to keep going forward, until you have delivered this message into safe hands. We are all counting on you, and you alone."<p>

Momo gaped at Uncle, his round green eyes curious and baffled.

Fixing the lemur with a stern look, Uncle carefully took a small scrap of folded paper and tied it tightly to Momo's hind leg with a long piece of twine, knotting it several times to be sure it was completely secure. The message had a long way to go, and Uncle's trust in Momo's long-distance message-carrying abilities was feeble at best, and entirely based on necessity and desperation at this point.

The rather blank look in the lemur's eyes, and the nonchalant way he nibbled at the fur on his legs, didn't do much to bolster Uncle's confidence either. But there was nothing for it.

Carrying Momo to a small round window in the ship's metal hull, where the glass had been broken out and the icy sea wind now whistled through, Uncle yet again adjusted the little note attached to Momo's leg, to be extra sure.

"Now, don't get distracted, Momo," he commanded, pointing an authoritative finger severely into the lemur's nose. "We are getting very close to the North Pole now, but you may still have quite a distance to go. Fly _that _way – " He reached through the small window and pointed northward – "as fast as you can. And don't stop for anything!"

Momo cocked his head at Uncle, with a soft inquisitive gurgle.

"Don't let us down. All of our fates may depend on you." He couldn't help but sigh uneasily at that thought, but after a moment he gave Momo a solemn nod and a quick, encouraging scratch behind the ears. "Good luck!"

And with that, Uncle reached through the window and released Momo into the cold morning air. Momo, rather startled, at first hovered beside the ship, flapping in bewildered circles and chattering at Uncle anxiously.

"That way! That way! Go!" Uncle cried, waving his hands frantically in a generally northern direction.

Momo's head darted in the direction Uncle was waving. He began to fly off, but then faltered, circling back and chirping at Uncle with fretful uncertainty.

"Go on! You can do it! Hurry!"

At last, with a final perplexed warble, Momo turned northward, catching a gust of wind in his bat-like wings and gliding along the frigid air, soaring higher and at last vanishing into the hazy distance.

Iroh watched the lemur disappear, with a heavy sigh, desperately praying that this would not be the last sight anyone ever had of the poor little fellow. Hopefully the North Pole really wasn't very far; hopefully Momo would make it there safely, not only for his own sake, but also for the sake of everyone trapped on this ship. And, conceivably, also for the sake of everyone in the North Pole who had no idea now that a clever and murderous madwoman was currently on her way toward their city, and drawing swiftly closer.

Turning away from the small broken porthole, Uncle began to slowly make his way back down the long metal hallway behind him, stopping to linger for a moment beneath the great open gash in the deck – that agonizing hole, lying wide open, yet offering no escape. The wind and the frosty sunlight both poured freely into the hole, and through the haze of early morning fog he could just make out the small dangling shape of Toph, so hopelessly out of reach, so heartlessly exposed to the cruelty of the elements. Time was running rapidly out for all of them now, but especially for her.

It may already have run out for her.

But Uncle could hardly bear to think of it – to think that Toph, so bright and young and full of life, might already be lost, beyond their reach forever. Snuffed out.

_No, she is strong_, he told himself. _If anyone could make it..._

But – but, _could _anyone make it this long, hanging up there like that? Even someone as strong as Toph?

He couldn't bear it. Hands shaking, he looked away and passed his fingers across his eyelids, pressing in and shutting out the creeping darkness, the crippling grief and despair. He couldn't allow such cold nothingness to overwhelm him. Not now. Not ever again.

Turning his eyes up toward the bridge, high above the deck, Uncle spotted the figure of Azula posted beyond the shattered glass of the wide window – watching, still watching. Her wild hair tumbled into her face, drifting in the icy wind, and even from this great distance he could feel that her eyes were fixed on him. Pinning him down with her stare, watching to see what he would do. Making sure that he was still properly subdued.

He couldn't help himself. He stared back, undaunted, and after a moment he waved casually at her, as if wishing her an indifferent good morning.

Then he hastily slipped out of her line of sight, strolling on past the open gash and back down the dark corridor. And as he did, he couldn't help smirking a bit to himself. Despite how hopeless and almost entirely uncontrollable their current situation was, he liked the idea that his small wave might unsettle Azula a bit, make her uncertain about what was going on down below.

Honestly, he just enjoyed the thought of doing something she wouldn't expect. It reassured him that at least she wasn't entirely in control, no matter how much she undoubtedly wanted to believe she was.

* * *

><p>Yonten sat, his back against the metal wall near one of the welded doors, with his legs stretched out straight before him, staring intently at his bare tattooed feet.<p>

At the end of the hallway, Ashiro and a small group of his soldiers were working at the sealed door, four or five of them concentrating the hottest flames they could muster on a single spot, hoping to melt their way through. They'd been working at it for almost an entire day now, without stopping, taking turns. So far they'd only managed to make a couple of inches' worth of progress.

Yonten merely sat nearby, staring at his bare feet, lost in a futile daze. Thinking about his shoes, and the person who was currently wearing them, and the other person who had sacrificed herself to allow him to give them away. Thinking very hard about whether or not either of them were still alive at this moment. Wondering whether or not he'd even have a chance to find out, before it was all over.

But it wouldn't matter then, he supposed.

Ashiro stepped away from the door, panting and swiping the sweat from his brow. One of his soldiers took his place at the door, and the general meanwhile leaned wearily against the wall opposite Yonten. Yonten didn't look at him, or show any awareness of his presence. But Ashiro studied the Airbender's face for a moment, and then also glanced down at his bare feet.

"Your feet aren't cold?"

Yonten looked up at him, with a grim expression, and shook his head in curt silence.

"It is no use, General Ashiro," Iroh's voice came somberly down the corridor, as he slowly approached the group gathered by the door. "I told you before, we would not be able to melt a hole in that door big enough for any of us to get through, even if we'd started two days ago. The metal is too thick."

"Well, what else do you suggest we do then?" Ashiro asked rather defensively, giving Iroh a fierce look. "This is the only plan anyone has come up with since the last attempt failed yesterday."

"It is not our _only _plan," Iroh began rather awkwardly, stroking his beard with slight uncertainty.

"Oh, of course," Ashiro shook his head, with a bitter chuckle. "I forgot, we've also got a lemur carrying a distress call to the North Pole for us! Yes, a brilliant plan. I can't imagine how _that _could possible fail!"

"Momo can be surprisingly reliable," Iroh protested, though even _he _thought that his argument sounded feeble. "He's been very useful in carrying food and water to Toph, after all. Though that was, admittedly, quite a _shorter _distance, but – "

"Well, I suppose we have nothing more to worry about, then!" Ashiro went on, inflamed with his frustration at the situation. "Not now that we've sent the lemur off. In fact, I suppose the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe will be on his way to rescue us in just a little while – perhaps even the Avatar himself will come to our aid! Isn't that right? We might as well just sit back and relax, and wait for the cavalry to arrive!"

"Now, no need to lose our tempers!" Iroh growled, beginning to sound rather irked himself – though his own patience was, of course, quite a bit more durable than Ashiro's. "It won't do any good to fight amongst ourselves."

"General Ashiro," one of the soldiers spoke up suddenly, turning away from the iron door and giving Ashiro an aggravated frown. "I mean no disrespect, but I have to agree with General Iroh. We're never going to get through these doors. We ought to just make a run for it – go out through the hole and take the risk!"

"That is not what I was suggesting at all!" Iroh objected immediately.

"If you'd like to get us all killed, Heitai," Ashiro said sternly, glaring at the soldier, "then go right ahead. Make a run for it – test Azula's nerve. You think she'll hesitate to kill us all? You think that she'll think twice about destroying this ship?"

"But we still haven't found the other bombs," another of the soldiers interjected, also turning away from his work at the door. "What if she's been bluffing all along, just as Suki said from the very beginning?"

"But what if she's not?" Iroh argued gravely.

"We can't risk it," Ashiro agreed.

"And remember, it is not only our own lives at stake," Iroh added, and his voice dropped to a low, sorrowful hush. "There is also Toph."

"Oh, you can't really – !" Heitai began incredulously, but stopped himself before the rest of his foolish sentence managed to tumble out of his mouth.

But Iroh gave him a severe look. "I can't really _what_?"

No one said another word for several moments. All of the soldiers who had been working at the door had stopped by now, pausing to hear the debate play out. Their eyes all shifted uneasily across the floor, and Heitai especially looked awkward and rather ashamed. But Yonten glanced up, watching them all carefully, though he still remained silent.

"Well, I just meant, it's – " Heitai muttered remorsefully, "it's probably too late for her by now. Don't you think?"

Iroh glowered. Yonten drew in his breath and clenched his jaw, without a word, watching, unblinking.

"How could you say such a thing, Heitai?" Ashiro snapped, in a voice so fierce that the soldier cringed slightly.

"We've all been thinking it," another of the soldiers said quietly. "It's just that no one's said it aloud, that's all. You must have considered the possibility yourself, General. Haven't you?"

Ashiro looked away, and didn't answer. But Iroh growled, and gave all of them a scowl more severe than any of them had yet seen on his face – a hard, powerful look which made everyone suddenly remember what a fearsome general the old man had been in his youth.

"It isn't too late," he declared, almost in a whisper – but a whisper that seemed to make the walls tremble. "We cannot simply give up on her. Or Ursa, either. We must assume that they are both still alive, and that it is our duty to do all in our power to keep them that way."

"But – is it really right?" another of the soldiers argued desperately. "To risk _all _of our lives for the sake of someone who might already be gone? – That is, I don't mean to sound heartless. But really, wouldn't it be better at this point to take the chance and – "

"And sacrifice her?" Yonten finally spoke, and his voice was razor-sharp and sour, and it too sent a soft shudder through the thick air. "Sacrifice Toph to Azula, the way we sacrificed Sen? Is _that _what you mean to say?"

"Well – " the soldier frowned at him, shrugging defensively.

"If you didn't mean to sound heartless," Yonten snapped, with quiet, biting fury, "then you failed completely. Where I come from, no one would ever have simply looked away while an innocent person suffered. No one would ever have even _considered _sacrificing someone else in order to save themselves, even if it was for the supposed 'greater good.' _No one_."

Everyone fell utterly silent after that. Ashiro, Iroh and the soldiers all stared at Yonten, but the Airbender himself quickly shut his eyes and turned his face away from all of them, gathering his knees tightly to his chest and exhaling painfully. At last, though, Ashiro shot Iroh a sidelong glance, and then turned his eyes to his soldiers.

"Well," he whispered gravely. "You all may do what you think best. But I'm going to keep working on this door. Excuse me."

And the young general, bristling with quiet desperation, pushed his way sternly through the small group of soldiers and resumed work on the iron door, summoning a concentrated jet of orange flames from his fist and focusing the heat as intensely as he could. The metal began to glow, but still refused to melt except at the most excruciatingly slow pace. And with reluctant, ashamed frowns, the soldiers all one by one turned back and joined him, once more contributing their own flames to the futile task.

Meanwhile, Iroh sighed, massaged his forehead wearily, and finally sat himself heavily down on the floor beside Yonten, leaning back against the wall.

"Don't give in to despair, young Airbender," he said softly. "I know the situation looks very dark at the moment. But we mustn't give up hope."

Yonten only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, wincing.

"I should never have left home," he whispered. "I should never have left the Lion Turtle, and the other Airbenders. I should have just stayed where I was."

"No!" Iroh shook his head. "You must never regret where life has led you. Remember, if you had not left your home, then the Avatar would have been lost to all of us forever."

"Then I wish it had been someone else who delivered the message, instead of me," he said, with sharp grief. "It would have been better that way. I know, I would never have seen the world, or met any of you. But at least I – " His voice wavered faintly – "at least I would never have known what I'd missed. Having something and then losing it is much worse than never having it in the first place."

"Hm." Iroh grumbled pensively, scratching at his beard. "I don't think that's true, actually... And I don't think you ought to regret your decision to leave home, no matter how things turn out."

"But – why not?" Yonten sputtered suddenly, covering his eyes briefly with a quivering hand. "Why not? I – I don't want to despair, Iroh. I really don't. But I keep trying to think of a reason, any reason, to not regret leaving home, and I just – I can't. I can't think of any."

He looked at Uncle, almost beseechingly, earnestly begging him to give him just one reason – just _one_ – to be grateful, rather than bitter, that he'd chosen to leave his peaceful home forever.

Iroh glanced at the hopeless young Airbender, and found that he could not immediately think of a reply to Yonten's question. He turned his own eyes forward and, after a few silent seconds, simply released another mournful sigh.

He was about to finally speak, but before he could, a violent tremor suddenly rocked the ship, and the air rippled with a piercing metallic screech.

"What was that?" Yonten cried, leaping to his feet and helping Uncle up as well.

Ashiro turned away from the door, his eyes wide with fear. "We must have hit something – "

"An iceberg?" Heitai suggested anxiously.

"Most likely," Ashiro nodded. "Or possibly a shelf, or – We must be very near the North Pole now, it could be many things. And at the speed we're going – "

"Will the ship sink?" another of the soldiers asked.

"That depends," Iroh replied quickly. "But we ought to try to find out the damage, as soon as possible. We may not have very much time, if the hull has been breached."

"We should find Suki," Yonten said. "Does anyone know where she is? Has anyone seen her?"

"Not recently," Ashiro shook his head. "Hopefully she is all right."

* * *

><p>Suki hadn't spent much time with the others since their failed escape attempt the day before. She blamed herself still, for not getting rid of the bomb quickly enough, for wasting too much time on the crane, being too overly cautious. She'd been replaying those frantic minutes up on the deck, again and again in her mind – trying to recreate the image of the crane and the bomb, running through the list of everything she should have done while she had the chance, everything she could have done differently. They'd all been counting on her. If she'd only been faster, they could all be out of this mess now. They could all be free. Toph would be safe, and so would Ursa.<p>

But she'd blown it. She'd wasted her chance, and now all of them were paying the price.

So she'd been avoiding the others. Not that _they _blamed her – no, she knew they didn't. It was more that she didn't want to hear their pity, their attempts at consolation, their exhortations that she stop blaming herself. She needed to allow her own frustration and fury to run its course, to have its way, without interference.

She was also, surreptitiously, searching for the bombs that Azula supposedly had planted around the ship – the ones that, according to Azula, would go off in a chain reaction, destroying the entire ship, should the explosive on the crane be detonated. For the past couple of days, Suki had wavered between doubt and certainty that the other bombs actually existed. While she didn't put it past Azula to bluff about that sort of thing, she also knew that it was easily within Azula's capabilities not only to have all those explosives, but to hide them well enough that they wouldn't be found.

For now, Suki had fiercely pushed away all her doubt – she pressed onward through the ship with an almost stubborn determination that the bombs _did _exist. Not only that they existed, but that she would find them. Her search was, admittedly, a sort of self-imposed penance: Suki's way of making up for the fact that she'd failed to dispose of the bomb on the crane, and that Toph was still hanging up there because of her failure.

And this was why, when the ship was shaken by the ear-splitting screech of metal and the brutal shuddering collision, Suki was far down below in the ship by herself. She'd gone into the engine room, panting in the steaming hot air, exploring the boilers, the exhaust pipes – every nook that seemed like a good hiding place for explosives. The engine room was long and broad, unbearably hot despite the massive fans in the walls that blew in air to alleviate the heat.

She was wondering about those fans, and the large vents behind the whirring blades – wondering if Azula perhaps had slipped an explosive behind one of those fans – when the tremor happened. The ship shook so violently that it nearly knocked Suki off her feet, and she reeled against a wall, gasping in surprise and fright.

Had the ship run aground? Had it struck a rock, or an iceberg? Had it hit another vessel, perhaps? Azula probably would drive the ship straight over anything and everything in its path, regardless of damage.

But if the ship started to sink – what would they do? What would they do then? They'd be trapped between one horrible death and another: to drown down below in the ship, or to make a run for it and die in a fiery explosion.

Tearing her fingers through her damp hair, which clung to her neck with perspiration, Suki clenched her teeth in rage and frustration. There had to be another way out of this ship! There had to be something they hadn't thought of yet –

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. What would Azula do? If the tables were turned, the situation was reversed – if it was Azula who was trapped down below – what would _she _do? Where would she go? How would she get out? Suki knew Azula would find some way to get out – she always did – but _what_?

The fan blades whipped, pulsing their air through the sweltering engine room, and Suki's mind whirred with them – whizz, whizz – rhythmic, throbbing. Struggling to think like Azula. Mechanical, methodical. Like the fans themselves, spinning and spinning high in the walls, pumping their cool air in to ventilate and soothe the blistering air –

The fans.

Suki's thoughts spun, spun, spun.

The fans!

Where did their vents lead? The fans were drawing in cool air from somewhere. Where did they get the air from?

Her heart began to pound with excitement. Quickly, quickly, she thought back, trying to remember the layout of the upper deck. She'd spent so much time up there days before, back when Azula had been lurking down below in the ship. What lay directly above the engine room?

Where did the fans get their air from?

Hastily clambering up the pipes and machinery in the room, Suki managed to hoist herself up to a higher vantage point, from which she could gaze directly into one of the massive fans. She squinted past the spinning blades, into the shaft that lay behind. The broad metal vent appeared to curve back, turning upward rapidly, climbing straight up vertically. Suki reached her arm out toward the fan, straining to get as close as she could. The air that pumped into the room felt fresh, and icy cold, before it was stifled in the stale heat of the boilers.

The fans had to be pulling air in from the outside. They _had _to be! Which meant –

The ventilation shafts must lead all the way up to the top deck! They had to go directly up, a long vertical tunnel straight up to the stern. Yes – _yes! _That was it! She remembered – she recalled the large funnels rising up out of the deck of the stern. Those had to be the ventilation shafts! The fans led outside – and not only outside, but out to a place where Azula would not be able to see.

Almost squealing aloud with excitement, Suki scrambled back to the ground and took off running. This was it! A way out, at last! They were going to make it! She had to go tell the others – she had to tell them right away!

Racing to the far end of the engine room, Suki burst through the heavy iron doors and out into the hallway.

Icy ocean water rolled against her ankles.

"Oh," she stammered, blinking at the water that rippled and rolled all down the length of the corridor, flooding in slowly and surely from somewhere, from wherever the hull had been breached.

So the ship was sinking. Definitely sinking. Well... that wasn't very good.

Without wasting another second, Suki raced off again, heading for the stairs to the higher decks, as quickly as she could.

* * *

><p>Several minutes after the mysterious tremor, Iroh, Yonten and Ashiro finally saw Suki come sprinting up the stairs and down the corridor towards them, shoving her way through several of the soldiers that had gathered in the narrow space. She was wide-eyed, flushed, and breathless – but, oddly, grinning ecstatically, which really only gave her the appearance of a manic child.<p>

"Suki, there you are!" Iroh cried. "What's going on?"

"Has the ship been damaged?" Ashiro asked anxiously. "Did you see if – ?"

"Fans!" she gasped, panting and swaying with exhaustion, but still beaming uncontrollably. "The – the fans!"

Everyone gaped at her in bewilderment.

"Uh, would you care to elaborate?" Iroh asked.

She breathed heavily for a few seconds, gathering her dizzy thoughts. "It's the – down in the engine room! The ventilation fans! The big shafts, they – they pull in the air through the – they pull in air from the outside. See? We can climb out through the fans! The fans in the engine room! We can get outside, up to the stern! She won't see us there! We can get out!"

Now everyone gaped at her in astonishment, and rapidly escalating excitement.

"Are the shafts big enough?" Iroh asked quickly. "Are you sure we will be able to fit?"

"Are you sure they go all the way up?" one of the soldiers asked.

She nodded quickly. "I'm positive! Come on – we have to hurry! Yonten, you and I can go up first and lower a rope down for the others. Come on! We all have to move fast since the ship's sinking and all – "

"What?" everyone shouted at once.

"The ship's really sinking? Are you certain?" Ashiro asked anxiously.

She nodded again, waving her hand at him impatiently. "Yeah, yeah. It's going down. Whole thing'll probably be at the bottom of the ocean in a few hours. Now stop wasting time with silly questions! Come on – quick!"

* * *

><p>By the time they'd followed her back down to the engine room, the water had already risen well above their ankles. And already, everyone was starting to feel vaguely askew, as if they were walking at an almost imperceptible slant. The ship was starting to slowly list to the port side, tilting over as more and more water rushed in. And from the look of it, they didn't have much longer than an hour before the entire ship capsized and vanished into the frigid sea.<p>

"We've got to get to the lifeboats," Ashiro cried, as they all splashed through the icy water. "We have to try to get everyone out, as fast as we can! We have to get off this ship!"

"What about the hostages up in the bridge?" Yonten asked, as he and Suki shoved open the thick iron doors of the engine room. "What about Toph?"

"We will worry about them as soon as we can," Iroh shouted, standing aside as everyone else crowded into the room. "But we need to concentrate on getting ourselves out first!"

They all made their way down the length of the sweltering room, past the great boilers, the exhaust funnels, the jungle of pipes and rumbling machinery, at last gathering by the wall beneath one of the massive ventilation fans. It was set high above them in the wall, and the blades whirred rapidly, whipping out the cooler air in spiraling bursts. For a few seconds, they all debated about how exactly they were going to get past the spinning blades – but Iroh brought the argument to an instant halt, by launching a sharp bolt of lightning very suddenly from his fingertips. It cracked through the hot air, making all their ears ring and their hair stand on end, and hit the fan straight on. In feeble defeat, the obliterated blades gradually slowed to a creaking, miserable stop.

"Well, that did it!" Suki cried cheerfully – and before any of them had a moment to recover from the shock of the lightning, she was already scuttling nimbly up the wall and pulling herself past the dead fan blades into the ventilation shaft.

The vertical climb up the shaft was difficult, and Suki's arms quaked with the effort of pressing against the smooth metal sides of the vent. But Yonten stood at the base of the vent and, breathing deeply, gathered the most powerful gust of wind he could manage, hurling it into the shaft with all his might. The air pushed her upward, upward, until she at last arrived at the top, kicking out the grating that covered the opening and – _at last_ – emerging out into the beautiful open wind of the top deck.

For a moment, she planted her feet on the ground and just savored the thrill of being free – all the more glorious because Azula was completely unaware of her freedom.

Her brief euphoria was interrupted quickly, though, as Yonten came fluttering up the shaft behind her, propelling himself up on a whirlwind. He grasped at the side of the shaft's opening, fingers slipping against the smooth metal, and nearly lost his balance and went plummeting all the way back down to the bottom. But Suki quickly reached out and caught him by the shirt, hauling him out of the vent.

Hastily, they scanned the deck around them, and Yonten soon spotted a rope long enough to lower down to the others. After knotting the rope securely to the nearest railing, they carried it across to the open air shaft. But as Yonten was about to toss the rope down to the others, Suki suddenly slipped away. She took off at a swift sprint across the deck, racing toward the middle of the ship.

"Where are you going?" Yonten shouted after her in alarm.

Briefly, impatiently, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, eyes smoldering.

"To take care of Azula," she called back, racing resolutely off without another word.

* * *

><p><em>More on the way very soon, hopefully!<em>

Rain&Roses: "Oh! Hey, almost forgot – Mai, could you answer me a quick question?" *_whispers in Mai's ear_*  
>Mai: "Do I eat purple pancakes?... Why in the world would you feel the need to ask me something like that?"<br>Rain&Roses: "Because someone named Slo wanted me to prove that I actually read all my reviews. That's all." ^_^  
>Mai: "I see... Yeah, that's a little weird. Do you think you could please leave me out of your reviewers' random whims in the future?"<br>Rain&Roses: "... Hm. I make no promises." ;D


	41. Vigil, Part Two: Detonation

_Man, oh man... These two chapters. These two._

_So, ahem, I'm uploading two chapters today. For reasons. __That is all. _^_^

Mai: "Hm... Nice Author's Note, there. Very informative and necessary."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Thanks! I thought so too." :D<br>Mai: -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh! Wait, you were being sarcastic, huh?"<br>Mai: "Me, sarcastic? Never!" -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "..."<br>Mai: "..."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "You know, you can be a difficult person to read sometimes, Mai."<br>Mai: "Thanks. I try."

* * *

><p><strong>VIGIL, PART TWO:<br>Detonation**

The North Pole's dawn came late, came modestly – the quiet beginning of a day that seemed to believe it was nothing of consequence.

The city had awoken long before the sleepy sun did, bustling with its usual daily business. Few of the citizens were aware of the rather important person who'd recently been retrieved from the Spirit World, who lay still sleeping in the great healing house near the Chief's Palace in the upper tier of the city. Few were aware of the weary Waterbender who still sat by his side, blinking heavily but refusing to believe that she was tired. Few had any idea what she'd recently gone through to get him there. And aside from the strange lunar phenomenon that had occurred the night before (which people were still murmuring about to one another), few were aware that anything significant or unusual had been going on in their city at all. And none, _none_, were aware of the doomed merchant ship far out at sea, currently barreling towards the city at a mad, perilous speed, bringing disaster with it.

Sokka, certainly, had no inkling of any impending trouble. In fact, he'd hardly thought about the ship and its passengers at all during the past day or two, too distracted by everything that had been going on regarding Katara and Aang to think much about anything else.

Now, though, while the late morning sun timidly peeked through the arched windows of the healing house, sweeping across the white corridors in pale, unassuming shafts, Sokka wandered the halls, carrying a tray of food in his hands; he studied the sunlight, glanced at the busy healers (mostly older women) who passed him by, and suddenly thought about Suki, and Toph, and everyone else on the ship. He wondered when they'd get here, and hoped it would be soon. It would be a shame if they weren't all present to greet Aang when he woke up.

_Aang's going to wake up soon._

That small, strange truth made Sokka pause for a second, just to _think _about it. And he smiled quietly; then, with a happy yawn, he resumed his stroll, meandering down the halls lethargically with his tray of food, until he arrived at the door of Aang's room. It was slightly ajar, and Sokka glanced inside, but didn't go in yet.

Of course, Katara was still there, just as he knew she'd be. Seated by Aang's bed, watching him intently, like a steadfast sentinel – waiting. But Aang only slept on for now, oblivious to her presence.

Sokka couldn't help lingering outside the door for a few minutes, staring at the scene inside, pondering – aching a bit, deep in his bones – troubled by the same small nagging concerns that he'd felt before, despite his own eagerness for Aang to wake up. The food in his hands was for Katara (he figured she'd probably forget to eat if left to her own devices), but he hesitated to actually enter the room. It was strange, but after everything – with the surreal realness of Aang, just lying there – with Katara keeping her anxious vigil... Sokka felt as if going into that room would be some kind of disrespectful intrusion. As if the room itself had become a kind of sacred temple, and it wasn't his place to enter.

"How long has she been in there now?"

Sokka jumped, startled by the quiet, gruff voice of Zuko, who'd somehow come up behind him so silently that Sokka hadn't noticed his approach.

"Don't do that!' Sokka gasped, glaring at him. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry." Zuko didn't look at him; he was also transfixed on the image of Katara and Aang through the half-open door, with a serious and inscrutable expression on his face.

"It's been a few hours," Sokka finally answered Zuko's question, breathing heavily. Then he cocked his eyebrow at him. "Where are the kids?"

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, but before he said a word, the children appeared, as if conjured forth by Sokka's question. Tenzin came first, blustering down the hall towards them, stirring up the clothes and hair of the healing ladies he passed (who all smiled and giggled at him – he'd quickly become very popular with the ladies). His face was flushed, and he was beaming excitedly, and he carried a little clattering bag in his hands. Ursa came running close behind him, though she couldn't quite keep pace with his gusty Airbender feet; she too looked flushed and breathless.

"_Did he wake up?_" Tenzin gasped – the words burst out of him long before he was anywhere near the door. "Is he awake, Uncle Sokka? Is he up?"

"No, still asleep. Sorry, pal," Sokka said quietly. "What's that in your hands?"

Tenzin beamed brighter, bubbling with excitement. "Look!" he cried, reaching into his little bag. "Miss Yugoda gave me this! Isn't it neat?" He pulled forth a small trinket, a piece of whalebone carved in the shape of a penguin sliding on its belly.

Sokka grinned. "Did you tell her thanks?"

Tenzin nodded. "Yeah – I also told her about penguin sledding, like Momma told me about, and she said that people do penguin sledding here too, just like in South Pole!"

Ursa, meanwhile, reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of frozen seaweed cookies, shoving them one-by-one into her mouth. She made a strange face as she gnawed on them, but nevertheless kept on popping them in.

"The food here is weird," she remarked dryly.

"But penguins don't live in the city," Tenzin went on, very knowledgeably. "You have to go way outside. But you've also gotta be careful because there are wolves out there too. And carimooses."

"Cari_moose_," Ursa corrected him, crunching methodically on a cookie.

Zuko smirked a bit, glancing at Sokka. "They've been entertaining the healers all morning."

"I'm gonna show my penguin to daddy when he wakes up," Tenzin declared, holding the little carved penguin so close to his nose that his eyes crossed as he examined it. "D'you think he'll wake up soon, Uncle Sokka?"

"I don't know, Tenzin," Sokka said, with a small sigh. "Depends on what you mean by 'soon,' I guess."

"I'm gonna ask Momma," he said impatiently, brushing past Sokka and bursting into the room. Sokka and Zuko both watched as he darted straight for Katara. She jumped slightly, startled at his approach, but quickly put her arms around him, and he clambered into her lap and held up the little carved penguin for her to see. Their conversation was too quiet for those at the door to hear, but Sokka imagined Tenzin was probably giving her the exact same spiel about penguin sledding and carimooses that he'd just given them.

Still quietly munching on the cookies, Ursa remained outside the door, and leaned against Zuko's side, staring into the room as well. Zuko put his hand around her shoulders and rubbed her back absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the occupants in the room.

"Dad, can I go in too?" she finally asked, in a hesitant hush.

Sokka glanced at her, wondering if she was feeling the same strange reluctance to intrude on the sacred space that he felt.

"Sure, do whatever you want," Zuko muttered after a moment, and Ursa quietly stepped forward and shambled into the room, wandering across and leaning against the post at the foot of Aang's bed.

And Sokka and Zuko still lingered by the door, just watching – watching for several minutes, both thinking their own thoughts, but too far away to hear the words that were exchanged inside.

* * *

><p>Tenzin sat on his mother's lap, leaning against her chest, and twiddled the little carved penguin in his fingers. His gaze was fixed intently on the sleeping figure of his newly-existent father. Katara's eyes were also fixed on Aang, maintaining their steadfast vigil. And Ursa came into the room and hung off the post at the foot of the bed, also staring, with an almost reluctant yet overpowering fascination.<p>

"When's he gonna wake up?" Tenzin asked quietly – a small trace of nervousness sneaking into his voice. "Do you think it'll be much longer?"

Katara sighed wearily, brushing her fingers through Tenzin's hair. "I don't know, sweetie," she admitted. "Hopefully not much longer. But I don't know when." She kissed the top of his head. "We'll just have to keep waiting."

Ursa drew timidly nearer, leaning against the bed and craning her head forward, trying to get a closer look at Aang while also struggling to keep a cautious distance away. "What's the matter with him?" she asked. "Why won't he wake up? Why's he just sleeping like that?"

"Nothing's the matter with him – " Katara shook her head hastily.

"Well, then why won't he wake up?" Ursa asked, looking at her curiously.

Tenzin also gazed up at her, impatient for her to shed light on the subject with her infinite knowledge. Katara hesitated. She was fairly certain that there really was nothing wrong with Aang; but nevertheless, she had to swallow down a sudden swell of anxiety at Ursa's questions.

"He just needs time to get better, that's all," she said at last. "Then he'll be fine. He'll be fine. He just needs some time."

Tenzin scrambled out of her lap abruptly and crawled onto the bed, still clutching his little penguin, and scooted himself up right beside Aang's face, leaning over him with unabashed curiosity. Ursa still hung back slightly, too timid to get as close as Tenzin. And Katara slouched forward, reaching out to touch Aang's hand again, stroking his fingers gently.

"D'you think he knows we're here?" Tenzin asked breathlessly, gaping at Aang's face as if Aang was some kind of fascinating toy that he wasn't allowed to play with. "Do you think he can hear us?"

Both of the children stared expectantly at Katara again, and once more she hesitated. She studied them, then Aang, scrutinizing his face for some sign that perhaps he was aware of their presence. But he seemed entirely unresponsive – lost in some murky, distant dream.

"Well," she finally muttered, about to give them a doubtful answer – but she thought better of it, and decided that they deserved a hopeful answer (especially Tenzin), regardless of how unfounded it was. "Yeah, maybe."

Tenzin began nudging Aang's shoulder carefully. "Wake up, daddy! Wake up!"

Unsurprisingly, Aang didn't respond at all; at least, he didn't seem to. But when Tenzin began nudging him, Katara – still holding his hand – suddenly thought she felt his pulse quicken _very _slightly, almost too slightly to notice. But she did notice. And it made her own heart begin to thud in anticipation.

Ursa seemed to notice something too, because she quickly jumped to alertness, daring to lean a little closer to the sleeping Avatar. "Hey, look!" she gasped. "He kinda moved a little! Didn't he...?" Her voice wavered, growing more doubtful. "Maybe not."

Tenzin looked at her anxiously. "Did you see something? I didn't see – "

But Ursa shook her head, frowning. "I don't know. I thought I – " She gazed at Tenzin, then back at Katara, searching for some kind of confirmation. "D'you think maybe he heard?"

Katara's eyes were once again transfixed on Aang, unable to look away – uncertain and hopeful and impatient and reluctant – but she couldn't confirm anything. She was beginning to wonder if maybe that small change in his heartbeat, that small burst of almost-awareness, had only been imaginary after all – that perhaps she wanted him to wake up so badly she was seeing signs where there were none.

But – but, she was _sure_ she'd felt –

Well, he had to wake up at some point, didn't he? There was no reason he shouldn't be awake now. There was no reason he might not be able to hear them.

At last, Katara only whispered quietly, cautiously – as if she were afraid of jinxing things somehow by being too openly hopeful – "Maybe."

* * *

><p>"Are you gonna go in?" Zuko asked Sokka after they'd been standing at the door and watching for a few seconds of pensive silence.<p>

"In a minute," Sokka replied, turning a sidelong glance at him. "Are you?"

Zuko didn't answer. He stared at the scene for another brief pause, and then his eyes dropped to the ground. Sokka took that to mean that he wasn't.

"It's a little surreal, isn't it?" Sokka remarked after a few seconds.

"Yeah," Zuko sighed, running his fingers through his hair in a sudden, rather impatient motion. "I just wish he'd hurry and wake up."

Sokka scrutinized Zuko curiously, wondering. Of course, all of them were wishing for Aang to wake up; but there was something a little sharp, a little regretful, a little bitter in Zuko's tone that made Sokka wonder – made him vaguely concerned.

"You doing okay, Zuko?" he asked, carefully.

Zuko shot him a defensive look, but hesitated before he spoke. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked as if he were going to add something else, but stopped himself, deciding it wasn't necessary, or perhaps wasn't appropriate.

"Uh-huh," Sokka murmured, squinting at him shrewdly. "Well, don't worry. I'm sure it won't be too long now."

Zuko didn't reply for quite a while. "Yeah," he finally whispered again, and his eyes fell to the ground once more.

With a final dubious look at him, Sokka at last sighed, patted his shoulder briefly, and left him there, pushing past the door with his tray of food.

And Zuko stayed outside, longing to go into the room – longing to join all of them, to be a part of them. To wait for Aang to wake up too, and to be present when he finally opened his eyes. To welcome Aang back to the land of the living, tell him how much they'd all missed him over the past five years, reminisce with him about old times, and maybe share some tea and a few peaceful moments. To see Aang meet his son for the very first time – to see Tenzin meet his father, after so long. And to see Katara finally, _finally _happy and whole and at peace again.

But Zuko couldn't go into that room. Couldn't even bring himself to approach the threshold. As if some invisible force were turning him out, pushing him away, rejecting him.

He couldn't. Because – despite how very much Zuko wished he could stop being unhappy and just be _okay_ – despite that, to his overwhelming shame, the mere sight of Katara with Aang, so startlingly real and tangible again, caused him unexpected, uncontrollable pain, like a knife in the heart. It had been a lot easier, Zuko mused, to let Katara go a few days ago, back before Aang had become real again. Back when the idea of being without Katara had still been just an _idea_, abstract and distant and less painful to deal with. But now actually seeing it, right before his eyes...

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is what's supposed to happen._

Yes, it was. But nevertheless the pain was out of his control, and it was relentless, and Zuko couldn't just ignore it or force it to stop, though he was ashamed of it. He knew he would merely have to grow accustomed to it; after a time, it would grow numb and he would live. But for now, it was still raw and sharp – much sharper than he'd expected it would be – and it took all his strength to bear it and hide it from the others.

_This is how it's supposed to be_, he told himself again. _It's much better this way. You know it is._

Yes, yes, he knew. But it still hurt.

Really, though, it wasn't even the pain itself that kept him from going inside that room. He could have borne that – he'd borne pain often enough in his life, after all. And it wasn't like he hadn't prepared himself for this beforehand.

No. It was fear that held him back.

Fear – partially of Katara, without a doubt. Fear that she would know, that she would sense how miserable he was, and how pathetically he'd failed so far to un-attach himself from her and Tenzin.

But somehow even worse than that was the fear of Aang. The fear that Aang would sense Zuko's failure too, somehow – even while he was sleeping. Zuko just knew that if he entered that room now, in the emotional state he was currently in, somehow those unwelcome feelings of his would seep into the air, and Aang would breathe in Zuko's treachery in his sleep, and thus would wake up already knowing _everything_. Already knowing how Zuko had betrayed him; already knowing all the terrible secret thoughts Zuko had had about him over the years, how Zuko had given up on him, how many times Zuko had tried to persuade Katara to give up on him too; all the times in the past that Zuko had come to resent Aang for what he had, for what Zuko could never have, for Aang's endless and effortless good fortune.

Zuko flushed with shame, and – certainly not for the first time in his life – he wished to alienate his current self from his past self, but knew that of course he couldn't.

And Aang might wake up any second now. Zuko both wanted and dreaded that moment – wanted to see it, but also dreaded the idea of being in the room when it happened. Dreaded just _speaking_ to Aang again, and looking him in the eye. Of course, Zuko longed to be able to resume their friendship just where it had left off; but, honestly, how _could_ they? So much had changed in the last five years. And Aang had always been so insightful – Zuko feared that as soon as they were face-to-face once more, Aang would instantly see everything just in Zuko's eyes, or would hear it in Zuko's voice. And then all of Zuko's good intentions, and all his efforts to hide or smother or destroy his lingering feelings wouldn't matter, wouldn't count. Because those feelings were still there, whether Zuko could help it or not; and once Aang found out, it would all be over.

Any second now.

Despite it all, Zuko did desperately wish Aang would hurry and wake up – just to get it over with. Yes, he was dreading the awakening, but this anticipation was worse than anything.

At last, Zuko left, unable to linger outside that door any longer. He walked off alone down the halls of the healing house, yearning for the wise company of his Uncle, the comforting presence of his mother. Where were they now? Would they be here soon? He hoped they would – but in the meantime, he was on his own, at the mercy of his own frustration, of all the bitter, relentless, uncontrollable thoughts and feelings that wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how fiercely he wished them away. Everything that made it impossible for him to go into that room, no matter how much he hated being stuck on the outside.

* * *

><p>Yonten stood at the opening of the ventilation shaft, holding the rope and gaping in surprise as Suki raced off, with a fierce and brutal look in her eyes.<p>

"Where are you going?" he shouted in alarm.

"To take care of Azula," she called back, swiftly vanishing into the foggy distance.

He stared after her in astonishment, heart thudding. She was going off to confront Azula alone? What was she going to do? How would she get into the bridge without being seen? What would she do when she got there? Did she have any sort of plan, or was she merely _going_ – driven by nothing but aggravation and desperation? Suppose she was overwhelmed – injured, or killed? Suppose Azula killed Toph? Suppose Azula destroyed the ship before everyone had a chance to get off?

He couldn't suppress a small burst of anxious frustration. Had Suki lost her mind? She was only going to make everything worse!

"Yonten! Suki!" came Iroh's voice from far down below, rising up out of the ventilation shaft in blurry, garbled reverberations. "Can you hear me? Is everything all right up there? Have you made it out?"

Yonten blinked, shaking his head, flustered. "Yes!" he shouted back into the shaft. "Yes, we're out! I'm lowering down a rope now."

"Hurry!" shouted General Ashiro. "The ship's taking on water fast! I'm going to search the ship for others – "

The voices rang up the air shaft in hazy metallic muddles, and Yonten hastily finished lowering the rope down to the others – but he twitched impatiently, and couldn't focus, too distracted with anxiety about Suki.

"Can you reach the rope?" he finally called down.

There was a tug on the rope, and one of the soldiers shouted up, "Yes! It's down!"

"Good," he said, hurriedly yanking on the knot to be sure the rope would hold. "Then hurry, climb out. I'll – I'll be right back!"

"What?" the soldier at the bottom cried.

"Yonten, what is – ?" Iroh shouted, in a startled voice.

"Don't worry!" Yonten called down the shaft quickly. "It's fine, just – don't worry! I'll be back!"

"But where are you – ?"

But Yonten was already gone, racing off after Suki across the slowly tilting deck.

* * *

><p>Azula pressed her hand against the window frame and steadied herself. Planted her feet, frowned, breathed, and told and told herself that it was the rest of the world that was off-balance, leaning sideways. Not her. Not the ship. The ship was fine. It was everything else that was wrong.<p>

Below her, down on the deck, crates were sliding from the right side of the ship to the left, with a will of their own. The ropes in the rigging were dangling not quite vertically. And that limp ragdoll of an Earthbender was hanging increasingly slant-wise from the end of the crane, as if the ship were drawing her slowly toward itself like a magnet.

But there was nothing wrong with the ship, Azula told herself; it was gravity that was wrong, not the ship. The ship _wasn't_ listing to the side. It wasn't taking on water somewhere down below. It wasn't going to capsize. It wouldn't sink. It _wouldn't_. She was determined to keep the ship afloat by the mere force of her own will. It was fine. It would make it. It would.

Just long enough – just a little longer.

Squinting far ahead, as hard as she could, Azula searched the icy white ocean mists that lay spread out before the ship's bow, all the way out to the tilting horizon, and the jagged towers of ice all around them. She searched with all her might, and at last made herself believe that she could see, very faintly, the ghostly outline of the Northern Water Tribe's citadel rising tier-by-tier from the sea ahead of them.

"Faster!" she roared at the captive officers frantically, her voice resounding with shrill ferocity through the room. "We're nearly there now! I can see it! _Faster_!"

"The ship's already going at full speed," argued the helmsman, watching the navigation instruments and maps on the table beside him all begin to slide and clatter to the floor, one by one.

"We're listing to the port side," another of the officers in the room said urgently, darting a frantic look at Azula. "The hull must have been breached. The ship's going down!"

"Keep your mouth shut!" Azula shrieked, clutching the frame of the broken window with a wild, harried gleam in her eyes. "Faster! Make it go faster!"

"I tell you, it can't _go _any faster!" cried the helmsman.

She whirled on him, snarling savagely. "I don't believe you!" she screeched, fists trembling and flaring with frenzied spurts of blue fire. "I think you're holding it back! You've all been holding back, this whole time! You think you can stop me? You think you can keep me from getting what I want? You think you can deceive me, stand in my way? You're all fools! No one _ever _stands in my way! Now make it go faster!"

None of the captive officers said a word – but all of them fixed their eyes on her, watching her carefully, taken aback by the fearful, uncertain quiver in her voice. And on the floor beneath the window, still shackled and weak, Ursa stirred from an exhausted daze and scrutinized her daughter with the same startled curiosity. Azula was quaking, hysterical: clearly fighting against a powerful and uncontrollable rush of panic. Her wide-eyed stare darted from one face to another, only growing more wild and anxious as she saw the way they were all looking at her – looking at her as if she were a helpless child, a delusional fool. She sent murderous scowls at everyone in the room, while hotter and more dangerous flames burst with increasing passion from her fists and mouth and nostrils.

But the helmsman glared back at her and her perilous flames, and – suddenly – there was no more fear in his eyes. Only hopeless and frustrated weariness.

"It can't go any faster," he declared softly.

"Liar!" she shrieked, raising her blazing fists in his direction. "Do as I say, or I'll burn the flesh right off your bones!"

"Oh, _stop!_" he snapped irritably.

Everyone else in the room all gawked at him in astonishment – including Azula.

"Stop that shouting!" he went on. "You can't control this situation any more than the rest of us now! The ship's not going to make it to the North Pole. It's going down, and we're all going with it! Can't you see that? It's plain as day to anyone with eyes! The whole thing'll probably be completely underwater in just a few minutes, and nothing you do is going to change that!"

Trembling with rage, Azula raised her arms to incinerate the impudent helmsman – but he only rambled on, undaunted.

"Yes, go on! Kill me! Why don't you just kill all of us? None of us are going to make it to the North Pole now anyway – you might as well just dispose of us and see how well you can keep the ship afloat on your own! I bet if you threaten and hurt it enough it'll do what you want – "

Without a word – and with a chilling look of unreal, malicious terror in her eyes – Azula pulled back her fists, sucked in a sharp breath of air, and abruptly fired a bolt of lightning directly at the helmsman. The room rang and trembled with the booming, surging electricity, and everyone's hair stood alert, and everyone's nerves burned, and everyone's hearts stopped beating for a moment. The man screamed, groaned, writhed in petrified pain – wrenching against the bonds that held his hands to the helm. At last he collapsed against the wheel. But to everyone's surprise, he was still breathing, with feeble wheezing gasps. He looked up at Azula through fluttering eyelids, bewildered that he was still alive.

She glowered darkly at him, still quaking with fury, still wide-eyed with irrepressible panic.

"You'll die when _I _decide," she declared icily. "And you'll do as I say, and keep your mouth shut when I tell you to. Now, no one say another word! The next person to speak will –"

"Will _what_, Azula?" Ursa whispered fiercely from the floor.

Azula turned her eyes, startled, bitterly furious, down upon her mother. But Ursa stared back up at her steadily, with an exhausted and frustrated scowl. After watching the entire scene, watching her daughter's steadily overpowering storm of panic and violent rage, Ursa simply couldn't bear to watch anymore. She couldn't bear to lie here in hopeless defeat anymore; she couldn't bear to let her daughter be so monstrous without restraint, without challenge. No, she couldn't bear to be afraid of Azula – she _wouldn't_. She wouldn't give Azula the satisfaction of making her afraid any longer.

"There – that was three words," Ursa said softly, holding Azula's gaze without wavering. "Now _I've_ spoken. So what will you do to me? What is your plan? Are you going to punish me? – Then what?"

Azula stared at Ursa, eyes blazing with the icy desire to obliterate her.

But Ursa didn't falter. She wasn't afraid – no, not afraid anymore.

"The power of fear can only go so far, Azula," she whispered sternly. "I know you don't want to believe this. But it doesn't last forever. Situations change, and people get tired. People get tired of being afraid. There always comes a moment when even the deepest terror loses its bite – "

"_Stop talking_," Azula hissed viciously.

Ursa glowered at her for a moment, but then her eyes swelled with deep, remorseful, heart-crushing pity. Pity, because she knew that Azula had nothing else to rely on in the world except terror.

"This is that moment, darling," she breathed. "The fear's run out. It won't help you now." Closing her eyes, she allowed a weary tear to roll down her cheek and fall to the metal floor beside her. "I'm... I'm very sorry for you, Azula. I really am."

Trembling violently, Azula stood, staring at her mother, fury and fright and defiance and despair all tearing her limb from limb. Her mother's pity ignited her rage beyond control; her mother's words filled her with dread; her mother's existence made her feel small and fragile and bitter. For several moments, Azula only stared, unable to react, too horribly uncertain and divided to force herself to move. But at last, with clenched teeth and burning tears, she snarled and strode toward Ursa, kicking her fiercely in the stomach.

Ursa wheezed and gasped and curled up in agony. Azula kicked her again, and again, in a wild frenzy, and finally knelt and grasped at a handful of Ursa's hair, pulling her roughly up off the floor. Ursa cringed, panting and grinding her teeth against the pain; her eyes watered, but she gazed up at Azula as steadily as she could, and refused to scream or weep.

"No – you're still afraid," Azula whispered sharply, piercing Ursa with a look of broken, consuming hate – though Ursa could see the helpless, almost childlike fear that lurked far below. "You still fear me, don't you, mother? Aren't you afraid that I'll kill you?"

Ursa gasped for breath painfully, holding Azula's gaze. "No, I'm not afraid," she breathed, hesitating. "But – you're afraid to kill me, aren't you, Azula?"

Azula's eyes smoldered. In a burst of rage, she threw Ursa violently back to the floor, and her fists blazed with deadly blue flames. Ursa closed her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the final blow, praying that Zuko would forgive her –

But just in the instant before Azula struck, a phantom appeared, bursting through the broken window.

Suki came without warning, from the roof, swinging swiftly down and leaping through the window into the room. She instantly tackled Azula, knocking her roughly to the ground with a ferocious roar. The two girls went tumbling all the way across the room, hitting the back wall with a loud crash. Suki managed to maneuver herself into position over Azula, pinning her arms to the floor and throwing a fatal blow at Azula's head with her fan. In a second it all would have been over – but Azula managed to recover from the surprise quickly enough to block Suki's blow and throw her off with a fierce kick to the stomach.

Suki went stumbling back, losing her balance on the tilting floor and reeling against the helm with a grunt of pain. The injured helmsman grimaced as Suki hit the wheel, and everyone in the room gaped in wide-eyed astonishment, holding their breaths as Azula scrambled to her feet and came after Suki in a storm of murderous blue fire.

But Suki pushed herself up, eyes blazing, dodging Azula's flames and slipping nimbly around to take her out from behind – but Azula whirled, fast as lightning, once again blocking Suki's deadly fan and throwing a fiery punch at the Kyoshi's warrior's face. Suki leaped backwards, ducking beneath the fire, flinging one of her fans at Azula. The fan whistled through the air, clipping Azula's side and drawing forth a shriek of pain from her. Then Azula stumbled forward, charging at Suki with redoubled rage – and Suki charged back, with equal ferocity.

The two girls were soon entangled in a fierce and ruthless battle to the death, dodging and leaping and crashing around every corner of the room, roaring and screaming with wild intensity, both determined to end the other at all costs. And Ursa and the other hostages all watched in helpless astonishment, straining to stay out of harm's way despite the bonds that held them in place. And all the while the room tilted, tilted, as the ship took on more and more water far down below, until Azula and Suki were both skidding against the diagonal floor as they fought, struggling just to stay upright.

In the midst of the savage fight, Yonten appeared in the broken window, also swinging down from the roof and perching on the sill, wide-eyed and frantic.

"Yonten!" Ursa cried.

He glanced at her, and bright relief passed over his face in a rapid instant to see that she was still alive. But there was no time – Azula threw Suki down to the floor, holding her by the neck in a crushing grip and raising her other arm to incinerate her. But Yonten hastily launched a fierce gale at Azula, throwing her off Suki and against the back wall of the room violently. Suki gasped, quickly pulling herself to her feet – struggling for balance on the tilting floor – and racing at Azula with her fans poised to kill.

Azula sprang back at them with a vicious snarl, propelling herself off the wall, erupting with a storm of blue flames. But Yonten, bracing himself, hastily summoned the most massive gust he could conjure, a spiraling, flowing current of air powerful enough to stop Azula in her tracks, nearly toppling her head over heels. The rushing air stream pushed her back towards the wall – her hair whipped around her in a frenzy, her eyes watered – she clenched her teeth and had to struggle just to move in the powerful wind. Meanwhile, Suki came after her, fans glinting; at the last possible second, as Suki swung the blades at Azula's head, Azula surrendered to the wind and threw herself backwards, landing heavily on the floor but dodging the blades. Flames burst from her fist, forcing Suki to take a teetering step backwards, and Azula used her moment of unbalance to kick her feet out from under her.

Suki fell to the floor with a grunt, slipping sideways on the slanting floor, and Azula rose to finish her off – but another swift burst of wind from Yonten separated the two of them, tossing Azula away from Suki and into the barricade she'd piled against the door with a loud crash.

Quickly recollecting herself, Azula pulled herself up off the floor and onto the pile of crates and equipment heaped against the door – as both Suki and Yonten ran toward her, she grabbed a rope from one of the crates and threw it over a rafter, hoisting herself rapidly into the air. Neither of them had half a second to even imagine what she was trying to do – then suddenly her fingers sparked, and an unexpected bolt of lightning cracked through the small room, aimed directly at Suki.

Yonten managed to react first, sweeping up a frantic whirlwind that threw both Suki and himself backwards – but even still, the lightning shook Suki's bones, and her hair crackled, and her skin tingled, and her eyes went wide with the realization that she'd very narrowly avoided taking a bolt of lightning directly to the face.

Unfortunately, since it didn't hit Suki, it struck the metal floor instead, and the electricity surged through the little room, gripping everyone fiercely for a few seconds with biting, paralyzing pain. The captives all groaned in agony – Ursa screamed, writhing on the metal floor in her iron shackles – Suki lurched, howling and quaking and doubling over – and Yonten also screamed, clutching at his chest and falling to his knees, eyes watering in pain.

Then Azula – untouched by the lightning, thanks to the rope that suspended her off the floor – saw Yonten collapse and immediately leaped to the ground, hurling a barrage of fireballs at him. He was collected enough to whip up a hasty shield of air – but some of the fire still burst through, boiling the skin on his arms – and the force of the blow knocked him onto his back, while Azula swiftly climbed the tilting floor and loomed over him with savage ruthlessness.

She would have killed him then and there if not for Suki, who'd recovered herself from the electric shock and lurched towards Azula, struggling slightly for balance. She swiped rather clumsily at Azula with her fans, forcing Azula to leap back, but Suki's loss of balance threw off her aim. And Azula – with a sudden sly gleam in her eye – ducked and grabbed a handful of her clothes, pulling her forcefully in the direction of the tilting ship, letting gravity carry her off. Suki stumbled, tripping and tumbling uncontrollably, crashing into the barricade at the door.

Then Azula darted suddenly forward, leaping directly over Yonten's head before he could stand up again, and hurled a jet of deadly blue flames in the direction of Ursa, still lying below the window in an immobile, defenseless heap.

"No!" Yonten screamed from the floor, desperately swinging his legs around to create a massive gale, to toss both Azula and her flames safely away from Ursa.

Meanwhile, Suki regained her balance and charged toward Azula again in a rage, leaping straight over Yonten, who hastily sprang back to his feet after she passed. But rather than engaging either of them again, Azula only evaded their attacks nimbly, aiming all her Firebending blasts now at the helpless captives in the room, who screamed and did their best to avoid Azula's fire, but could hardly move thanks to their bonds.

Violent winds burst frantically from Yonten as he did his best to protect the captives, until the entire room felt like a hot, boxed-in tornado. And Suki kept darting after Azula, always one step behind, snarling with increasing frustration at Azula's evasive maneuvers. She just kept moving, moving – always just avoiding Suki's attacks, meanwhile targeting the captives and keeping both Yonten and Suki busy trying to prevent anyone from being hurt or killed.

At last, Azula had maneuvered her way across the room, and stood with her back to the wide broken window, gasping for breath. And an unsettling, chaotic sneer suddenly broke out across her face.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she panted, in a wild, shrill snarl – and once more her fingers flickered with cold electricity.

And for a horrifying instant, everyone in the room realized that she was going to shoot Toph.

The third strike. The last one.

Yonten's heart stopped – he shouted something desperate that he couldn't even hear – and he darted forward in a blind panic, thrusting the most enormous burst of air he could muster at Azula –

But Suki was closer – and with a thunderous scream she leaped forward – propelled unintentionally by Yonten's sudden gust – crashing violently into Azula, just as the lightning bolt cracked from her fingertips toward Toph – and the two of them went flying through the shattered window, plummeting to the deck three stories below.

The lightning snapped through the icy arctic air, only barely missing Toph where she dangled limply from the crane. Her hair and clothes leaped, startled by the sudden surge of electricity; for a brief second, her body jolted with the shock of it, and her blind eyes fluttered open. But it didn't hit her, and soon she dissolved once again into cold unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Suki and Azula both landed roughly far below, thudding and tumbling and skidding across the sloping metal deck with agonized grunts and screams.

Azula went sliding, scraping her fingernails against the metal deck to stop herself. They screeched and scratched, but didn't slow her fall, and with a cry of frustration she slipped over the jagged edge of the great gash and down into the hole to the floor below.

And Suki went sliding, missing the hole but careening straight for the side of the ship, on her way to go flying right off the edge into the sea. Frantically, she grabbed hold of the railing – her legs slipped over the side and she flailed wildly in the wind, held up only by the strength of her arm.

Her feet splashed in water.

Panting heavily, heart racing, she craned her neck to look down.

The ocean was near enough to touch. It had nearly reached the deck. In a few minutes, it would. It would flood over the deck, slowly but surely, and not long after that the whole ship would be underwater.

Suki gulped. They had to get off this ship. _Now_.

* * *

><p>Sipping on a warm cup of tea, Sokka had stepped out for a breath of fresh air, enjoying the magnificent view of the crystal white city from one of the healing house's many balconies, when something rather unusual caught his eye: a very small, fluttery white speck, gliding through the clear blue sky in a wavering, uncertain trajectory.<p>

As the little flying white speck drew nearer, Sokka squinted at it curiously. The more he watched it, the more he thought there was something distinctly familiar about it – something about the way it moved through the air – something that, oddly, made Sokka start thinking immediately about leechi nuts. Then about Suki. Then about drinking his morning tea back on Kyoshi Island, and always finding annoying strands of white fur in it.

Sokka squinted harder at the strange white speck in the sky, sipping pensively on his tea.

Then he choked on the tea, sputtering in disbelief –

"Momo?"

It was! It had to be. Sokka would know that fluttery flight pattern anywhere.

But – how could it be? Had Momo flown _all_ the way here? But why?

Sokka's mind whirred restlessly. The ship – something must have happened to the ship!

Azula?

Had Azula survived? Of course, of course she would! They should have known – they should have expected it. Had she sabotaged the ship somehow? Suppose it was gone! Suppose it had gone down, and only Momo had escaped?

No – Suki, Toph, Uncle...

His hands quivered. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't! Sokka shook his head in fierce denial. No, no – that was a worst case scenario. As usual, his mind was leaping to the most disastrous conclusion imaginable. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as that.

He quaked again. But what if it was?

The small, distant shape of Momo fluttered, faltered in the air. The poor lemur had to be exhausted! Who knew how far he'd flown? Sokka had to get to him somehow, to let Momo know he was here.

Racing back inside, Sokka hurried to his room, frantically digging through his bags and praying that he had what he was looking for – that he hadn't left it with Suki, or accidentally lost it on the way here.

No! There it was: Aang's old bison whistle.

Clutching the whistle tightly, Sokka sprinted down the halls of the healing house, at last out the front door, past the open courtyard at the entrance, and through the gate out into the busy avenue. He immediately put the whistle to his lips and blew with all his might – the little whistle vibrated vigorously in his hands, though of course all Sokka could hear was a very shrill, barely audible note.

Blowing continuously on the whistle, Sokka clambered quickly over the bridge spanning the main canal that ran past the healing house's front entrance, heading for a wide-open lookout point on the other side, beyond all the buildings and people that crowded the main street. Momo would be able to spot him easily there.

Behind him, he suddenly heard a deep grumble, and turned to see Appa emerge from behind the healing house, arching through the air and hovering down to land precariously on the bridge Sokka had just crossed, flapping his massive tail and stirring up a whirlwind of snow flurries. The water in the canal churned wildly, nearly capsizing a couple of gondolas that were drifting past. And the civilians wandering nearby all cried out in surprise and slight alarm when the massive bison came down heavily on the narrow bridge. A few of them were bold enough to try squeezing past Appa to get across, with very uncomfortable and annoyed scowls. But Sokka turned and waved his hand dismissively at the puzzled bison.

"No, Appa!" he shouted. "I wasn't calling you! Go on back! Go on!"

But Appa didn't go back. He sat there on the bridge, stared blankly at Sokka for a few moments, then yawned. Sokka quickly decided to ignore Appa and resumed his whistle blowing, which only caused Appa to roar loudly in response, shaking the icy ground beneath everyone's feet.

Then, to make matters worse, as Sokka sounded the shrill whistle, a couple of stray koala-otters swam up out of the canal and trotted anxiously towards him, sniffling and squeaking at his feet.

"No! Shoo!" Sokka cried, shaking his foot at them. "I don't want you! Go away!"

Doing his best to ignore the curious little animals, as well as Appa's impatient grunts, as well as the irritated scowls of passersby, Sokka continued trumpeting the bison whistle as urgently as he could, until at last the small white speck in the sky was near enough to be very clearly identified as Momo. Catching the sound of the whistle, Momo instantly veered in Sokka's direction, and he was soon close enough for Sokka to see the rings on his long tail. The little lemur came careening eagerly down through the air, finally crashing right into Sokka's arms with an exhausted and grateful chirp.

"Momo!" Sokka exclaimed, cradling the weary lemur in his arms and scratching him comfortingly behind his ears. His white fur was ruffled and spackled with frost, and he trembled a bit with exhaustion and cold. "How did you get all the way out here?"

Then he felt the small scrap of paper tied tightly around Momo's hind leg.

Carefully, he undid the knotted twine and pulled the folded up note off of Momo's leg. The paper was ripped and soggy, crumpled with thick salt water and crusted with frost. But Sokka managed to coax the corners apart, unfolding it carefully. Patting Momo's head absentmindedly, his eyes quickly scanned the faded, hastily scribbled words, growing wide with alarm.

_AZULA IS COMING  
>Please bring help as soon as possible<br>- Iroh_

_P.S. A __lot__ of help would be best_

_P.P.S. If it is too late for us by the time you get  
>this note, then Azula is probably already at the<br>North Pole. Be on your guard. __Don't let her win__.  
>And we're very, very sorry we didn't quite make it.<br>Hope Aang is back safe._

_P.P.P.S. __HURRY__. Please.  
>And give Momo a special treat when you get a chance<em>

Frantically, he turned and raced back to the healing house, nearly bowling over everything and everyone in his path. And Momo, jostling in his arms as he ran, clutched at his shirt and gargled in bewilderment.

* * *

><p>Minutes later, Momo sat on Sokka's shoulder munching eagerly on a very generous handful of leechi nuts – and Sokka watched as Zuko read Uncle's note: watched Zuko's hands begin to tremble violently as the meaning of the words hit him.<p>

"Azula's – " he rasped, horror dawning in his eyes. As if the note itself were toxic, he shoved it frantically back into Sokka's hands and gaped at it, wide-eyed, taking a step back and breathing hard.

"We have to do something!" Sokka cried, stepping forward and grasping him by the shoulder. "Zuko – don't freak out! They're still all right! They have to be! But – "

"Mom and Uncle!" Zuko groaned, passing his quivering hands across his face and looking rather sick. "I shouldn't have left them! How could I have left them? I _knew_ – back when we left the ship! I knew something like this would – what if they're – ?"

"Hey, look – stop!" Sokka said hastily, fighting not to panic himself. "Zuko, listen! Uncle was obviously okay enough to write this note, right? See, he's fine, and so's your mom, and Suki and Toph and all of them! They're _all _okay. They have to be. But we have to do something about this!"

"How could she have got control of the ship?" Zuko stammered, eyes searching the ground desperately as if there was an explanation written down by his feet. "How did she do it? With all of them on board! With Toph and – "

"But she's _Azula_," Sokka bitterly pointed out.

Zuko looked up at him, grimacing wretchedly. "Right. I guess it's not that surprising, is it?"

"We've got to do something now!" Sokka urged him again. "We've got to stop Azula before it's too late. We'll go on Appa. They can't be far from the city, if Momo made it here."

Zuko nodded hastily, but seemed unable to bring himself to speak.

"Here – I'll go tell Chief Arnook what's going on. The more Waterbenders we can get out there helping us, the better. And – "

He paused. Zuko also hesitated, glancing up at him carefully.

As soon as their eyes met, it was clear that they'd both immediately thought of Katara – as clear as if one of them had said it aloud. They both could see that the other was thinking of her as well, but neither of them knew immediately what ought to be done. She had to know what was going on; she'd be useful to have with them, if there was a fight – which, of course, there would be. But at the same time, someone ought to stay with the kids; one or two of the healing ladies could watch the kids, of course, but considering the situation... Who knew when or where or how Azula might get into the city? Who knew if she wasn't in the city already, if she'd taken a lifeboat or slipped aboard another ship?... Besides, after everything Katara had done recently, after all she'd been through, she deserved a break. And, honestly, Zuko would have preferred for her to be as far away from Azula as possible, anyway – no matter how much Katara might insist on coming, or resent being left behind.

And, of course – there was Aang. Still asleep. Katara needed to stay with him, just in case – it could be any second now. She would be reluctant to leave his side; but Zuko knew, even still, she _would_ leave him, out of concern for the others, regardless of her own needs or desires.

For a brief moment, Zuko felt a small burst of childish annoyance at Aang for still being asleep. His help would have been _really_ useful right about now.

Sokka sighed, and Zuko raised his eyebrow inquisitively at him.

"Katara?" Zuko simply asked, softly.

Sokka cringed, and then gave Zuko an uncomfortable look.

"I hate to just leave Aang and the kids here alone," he admitted. "Katara won't like it either. But... I'd rather have her come with us. I mean, she's the only one of us to really ever take down Azula. And I know she wouldn't like staying behind with all this going on, even though Aang..."

He trailed off with a perplexed frown, and scratched the back of his head anxiously.

"Well," he finally sighed again. "I'm gonna go tell the Chief about the situation. You go tell Katara. She'll do whatever she thinks is best. But whatever she decides, meet me out behind the healing house with Appa in about fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Zuko nodded, also grimacing.

Pulling Momo from his shoulder and plopping the lemur rather ungracefully onto the ground, Sokka took off at a swift sprint, to head to the Chief's palace and inform him of the crisis, and hopefully gather ample reinforcements.

And Zuko, with decidedly less swiftness than Sokka, glanced down for a moment at Momo – sprawled lazily on the ground with his leechi nuts – then sighed uneasily, turned and made his way down the hall in the opposite direction, back to the room in which Katara still sat waiting by Aang's side with Tenzin and Ursa. Back to the room that he couldn't enter.

With each step Zuko felt more uncomfortable, wondering what he would say, how he could tell her what was happening without sending her into a panic – perhaps how he might phrase it to encourage her to stay behind, assure her that her assistance wasn't needed, or persuade her that it was simply better for her to stay behind this time. His heart was still thudding with terror for Uncle and his mother – especially his mother, whose well-being was much less certain than Uncle's at this point, who wasn't a powerful Firebender or even a fighter, and who had only just come back into his life. The thought of losing her again, so soon after finding her – and losing her to Azula, the same way he lost Mai... Zuko couldn't bear it.

And the last thing Zuko needed on top of that would be for Katara to be in danger as well, and for Ursa and Tenzin to be left attended only by a few well-meaning but relatively powerless healers. No – he had to convince Katara to stay here. It would be best that way.

But perhaps it wouldn't be difficult, he thought. Perhaps she'd want to stay, for Aang. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to argue with her about it.

He shook his head. Who was he kidding? Of course she'd argue about it. Of course she'd want to come. No matter how much she wanted to stay with Aang, she'd never stay behind when any of her friends were in danger. She'd _need _to come. It was in her nature.

When at last he arrived at the door, it was still slightly ajar. Zuko pushed it gently open a little bit further with the tips of his fingers, peering reluctantly inside, but still hesitating to actually go in. At the sound of the creaking door, Katara glanced over her shoulder back at him, and both Tenzin and Ursa also looked up at him in happy surprise from where they were seated on Aang's bed – Ursa at the foot of the bed, Tenzin right beside Aang's pillow. Aang himself, of course, didn't stir at all.

"Dad!" Ursa beamed.

"Are you gonna come sit with us too?" Tenzin asked hopefully.

"What's going on, Zuko?" Katara asked, with soft gravity, and her eyes pierced straight through him in an instant.

He knew immediately that she could sense his anxiety, though he hadn't said a word; and he also feared, yet again, that she might sense his unwillingness to enter the room, his lingering misplaced attachment, his discomfort at being around Aang. The feeling that she _knew_ – the feeling of being exposed – made Zuko's face blaze awkwardly with shame.

"Nothing," he muttered quickly, without thinking. "Nothing's going on. Just thought I'd... pop in. To, uh... check. On you."

His face burned hotter, and he frowned, bewildered by the words that had just come out of his mouth. His feet shifted across the threshold.

_So, what, you're lying to her now? _his thoughts demanded accusingly. _That's how you're going to keep her from coming along, and keep her from worrying – by just not telling her what's going on? Really?_

Well – Zuko swallowed down his guilt. Yes – yes, perhaps he _was _going to lie to her. Come to think of it, wasn't that the best way after all? Wasn't she just better off not knowing, for now? At least until it was taken care of – and after that, it wouldn't really matter. Right?

And yet... Zuko felt himself sinking into a deeper hole of treachery, alienating himself even further from Katara, and Tenzin, and Aang, almost without even trying to.

She furrowed her brow at him, studying him apprehensively – again, surely detecting that there was something he wasn't telling her. Both Ursa and Tenzin were merely gaping at him in bewilderment.

"Um," he stammered, scratching his head and staring at the floor. "Also, I came here to tell you that... uh... Sokka... I mean, we... I guess Sokka wanted to go keep an eye out for the ship or something, since they should be here soon. So we were gonna, um... we were gonna take Appa over to the outer wall of the city. To do that. Watch, I mean. For a little while."

"Oh," she murmured, baffled. "Well... all right. Have fun."

"Can I come too, dad?" Ursa grinned, already scooting off the edge of the bed.

"No," Zuko said hastily. "No, stay here, Ursa."

"But why not?" she asked, frowning indignantly.

"It's – too – uh, too cold," Zuko stammered lamely. He'd always been terrible at lying, and felt particularly awful about lying to Ursa – especially in front of Katara.

"I've got a coat," she argued, rolling her eyes a bit.

"_Ursa_," he grumbled impatiently, growing more aggravated at himself as his face flushed again. "Just stay here with Katara, okay? We won't be gone long."

"Here, Ursa," Katara said softly, offering her hand to the little girl. "Come sit with me. Me and Tenzin want you to stay here with us anyway. Don't we, Tenzin?"

Tenzin's eyes were shifting thoughtfully between Zuko, his mother, Ursa and Aang. After a slightly puzzled pause, however, he glanced at Katara and nodded, then smiled rather shyly at Ursa. "If you leave, you might miss him wake up," he pointed out.

Ursa sighed, taking Katara's hand and clambering into her lap. Katara, meanwhile, gave Zuko a gentle look, but her eyes flickered with worry.

"Was – was there anything else you wanted to tell me, Zuko?" she finally asked.

He shifted his feet. She had to know that he was lying, covering something up. He knew she was very deliberately offering him the chance to tell her the truth. But he couldn't.

"No, that was all," he murmured. "Thanks for watching Ursa."

"Of course." Katara's eyes darted to Ursa briefly, then to Aang and Tenzin, then back to Zuko, swirling with soft, profound regret. "You – " she hesitated, frowning slightly. "Zuko, you haven't really... I mean, maybe you could stay in here with us for a little while, instead of going out to the wall with Sokka? I'm sure he can watch for the ship on his own."

Zuko could feel his throat closing up at the suggestion. He couldn't explain why he had to go; he couldn't let her know the gravity of the situation. He couldn't tell her how much he really wanted to stay here, stay here with her and the kids and wait for Aang. He couldn't explain to her why he couldn't set foot in that room. Not to her – and not in front of Aang.

"No, I – um," Zuko stumbled, face burning yet again. "Maybe – maybe later, Katara."

And with that, he hastily turned away, pulling the door closed behind him frantically before they tried to probe him any longer – before Katara coaxed the truth out of him with her penetrating stare.

But before he'd reached the end of the hall, he heard the door open again behind him, and Katara's voice came after him. "Zuko, wait!"

With an uneasy sigh, he stopped, turning as she trotted anxiously up to him.

"Hey, are you – " she hesitated again, looking at him half with caring concern and half with nervous discomfort. "Are you doing all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, rather curtly. "Don't worry about me."

"You know," she said slowly, "you can tell me what's going on. It's okay. You shouldn't have to deal with things all on your own. And I think we're both mature enough to handle whatever it is, don't you?" This last sentence she added with a grim, knowing tilt of her head.

His stomach churned a bit, but he just shook his head. "What makes you think something's going on?"

She didn't reply for a few seconds – only studied him, very carefully – then answered in a grave hush, "Because you haven't taken a single step into that room ever since we brought Aang back."

He wouldn't look at her.

She tilted her head further, trying to catch his eye. "Did you think I wouldn't notice, Zuko?"

He very adamantly wouldn't look at her – shutting his eyes tightly and releasing a sharp sigh through his nose.

She sighed as well, but less angrily. "I'm... I mean, I know this all must be kind of hard on you, even though – "

"No," he interrupted her fiercely, shaking his head again. "No, I'm – we already settled this, Katara. We already settled things between you and me. There's no point in bringing it up again."

"I know, but – just because we settled it doesn't make it all just magically go away." She stared uncomfortably at the ground for a moment, and a distinctly guilty grimace passed across her face for an instant, before she looked apologetically back up at him. "I just think it would be better for us to be honest with each other and try to deal with things as they go, instead of covering it all up and pretending it's not a problem."

Her eyes were clearly beseeching him to agree with her. But he couldn't return her gaze, and couldn't agree.

"Katara – " he began painfully.

"It's just," she went on. "I mean... I – I just don't want to lose you, Zuko." She exhaled slowly, looking almost ashamed, but nevertheless brimming with sad sincerity. "I don't want you to be stuck on the outside. You're a part of us – all of us. You should be in that room with us... I _want _you to be with us."

Zuko stood in silence, unsure what to say – feeling divided and miserable.

"Aang would want that," she added, softly.

Zuko frowned bitterly – allowing the cold shame to wash over him briefly. He wasn't so sure Aang _would _want him there; not if Aang knew. And if Aang _did _want him there after all – if he forgave him, or if he simply never guessed that Zuko would betray him – well, somehow that was even worse. Somehow that would make Zuko feel only more despicable, only less deserving to be in their lives.

At last he sighed, giving Katara a regretful look. "I just think it's better for now that I keep my distance, Katara."

Studying him sadly, she finally nodded. "All right. If – if you think that it's safer that way, then... do whatever you think is best, Zuko."

Without another word, Zuko turned once more to leave. And Katara also turned away, to return to the room and resume her post by Aang's side.

But as she reached the door, she glanced back at Zuko and added, "Just don't stay away too long, okay?"

He paused, looking back for a moment – then, with a quick nod, he rounded a corner and passed out of her sight, ignoring the guilt he felt for not telling her the truth about what was going on, and keenly aware of his own awkward stiffness as he departed. Some of the healing ladies he passed in the halls gave him strange looks, startled by the bitter fire in his eyes and the stern ferocity of his stride – but he ignored them too. He didn't care what they thought.

Sokka was already out in the back courtyard of the healing house with Appa when Zuko arrived.

"Where's Katara?" he asked.

Once more, Zuko swallowed down his guilt, and hastily replied, "She decided to stay here. With Aang and the kids."

Sokka looked surprised, and slightly disappointed; but he didn't question Zuko's truthfulness.

"Huh," he grunted. "Well, okay then. I guess that's... that's probably for the best. Anyway – ready to go?"

Zuko nodded quickly, clambering onto Appa's back as Sokka mounted and flicked the reins with the usual, "Yip yip!"

And as Appa rose into the air, and Zuko clung to his shaggy white fur, he was hit suddenly with a very vivid and persuasive idea – almost an intuition.

_Aang's going to wake up while we're gone_.

He didn't know why he thought it – he just _felt_ it. Aang would wake up. And he and Sokka were going to miss it.

The thought made him feel a little sad, strangely, despite everything. But there was nothing to do. Azula was coming. His mother and uncle, and many of his friends and loyal soldiers, were in danger; there was more to worry about now than minor regrets and inner conflicts.

* * *

><p>Azula, grunting with the effort, sprang up and grasped the edge of the great gash in the deck, hoisting herself quickly back out into the misty open air. She slipped, nearly losing her balance on the sloping deck, and had to keep holding onto the edge of the hole to prevent herself from sliding down the rest of the deck and off into the sea.<p>

With a furious scowl, her eyes darted up to the crane, at the dangling figure of Toph – and rapid, crackling thoughts whirred jaggedly through her mind. She should shoot the Earthbender now – she wanted to, but she couldn't think of why to do it now, other than that she wanted to. No, no, wait – she should just shoot the crane, detonate the bomb, destroy them all. But how would she get away herself?

No, no – _wait_.

The Kyoshi Warrior. She was there, behind her, only a few strides away, hanging off the side of the ship by one arm.

She should kill _her_ first. That was it. The Kyoshi Warrior should have been eliminated ages ago. It was high time.

Scrambling hastily to her feet, Azula raced – teetering clumsily on the tilting deck – toward where Suki was hanging, gripping the railing, straining to pull herself back up. As Azula came, reeling – putting one foot on the lower rung of the railing to balance herself – looming over Suki with a storm of deadly blue flames, Suki looked up and screamed, half with fear and half with defiant rage. In a burst of adrenaline, she swung herself back up onto the deck, narrowly avoiding the violent blaze and darting rapidly out of the reach of Azula's fire. Then, stumbling and catching her balance clumsily on the deck, Suki raced away from Azula, as fast as she could.

"_Come back here!_" Azula shrieked, sprinting wildly after her down the length of the ship, in the direction of the stern.

She punched a wild barrage of fire at Suki, who slipped deftly out of its path without slowing her frantic sprint in the slightest.

"You were supposed to die a long time ago!" Azula roared, hurling flames at Suki with escalating fury and frustration as they ran. Then an eerie, unnatural chortle burst out of her, ringing through the air, more frightening than her angry shouts. "It's a shame what's-his-name's not here to see you now – Sokka, right? – too bad Sokka's not here to watch you run like a scared little child, watch you burn! When I'm done with you, he won't even _recognize_ you! Do you hear me, filthy fan-waver? _Do you hear me?_"

Suki heard – but she didn't give Azula the pleasure of a reply. She just ran, slipping and sliding with the tipping ship, struggling for balance despite her usual agility, clutching her fans and dodging Azula's fire blasts frantically. She ran – not because she was frightened, as Azula assumed – not because she wanted to retreat – but because she knew she had to get Azula away from Toph, and away from the crane. She had to get Azula to follow her to the stern, where the others would surely already be emerging from the ventilation shaft.

And Azula chased her, desperate to finally end her, relishing the way that Suki fled in apparent terror – relishing it so much that she didn't even suspect that Suki might be baiting her.

* * *

><p>Yonten's first instinct was to go after Azula and Suki, after they'd fallen through the window. But it wasn't until he really looked out the window that he realized how remarkably <em>sideways<em> the ship was now. Surely it would only be minutes before the deck was submerged and the ship capsized – and if so, he couldn't leave anyone trapped up here in the bridge. He had to set them free first, and hope that Suki could last a few minutes without him.

Breathing fretfully, he of course went to Ursa first, kneeling by her side to undo her chains.

"Yonten," she gasped, wide-eyed with worry. "Darling, I'm so glad to see you! Are you hurt?"

"No, Aunt Sen – glad to see you too," he said briskly, too anxious to savor the moment. His fingers worked diligently, though shakily, at her chains – at last setting her free.

As he moved on to help untie the other captive officers, Ursa grabbed onto the sill of the broken window and hauled herself to her feet – but, quivering violently with pain, hunger and exhaustion, she soon collapsed again in a dizzy heap.

"Sen!" Yonten cried in alarm. Frantically, he finished freeing the captive man whose bonds he was currently working on, and as the man stood and raced to help his fellow hostages, Yonten ran back and helped pull Ursa back to her feet.

"I'm all right," she rasped.

"No, you're not," he argued. "We've got to get out of here now! You have to get to one of the lifeboats and get off the ship – "

"How long do you think we have?" one of the officers asked another who was in the process of setting him free.

"I'd give us maybe fifteen, twenty minutes," he said grimly.

"There's no time to waste! We have to move!" Yonten cried. And, taking Ursa by surprise, he scooped her swiftly up into his arms, as if she weighed no more than a sheet of paper. He only prayed that Suki didn't need his help – and that Iroh and Ashiro and the others had all managed to get out.

And with a cold rush of dread, he glanced out the great broken window, and fixed his eyes fearfully on the distant figure of Toph – who, thanks to the tilting of the ship, was hanging diagonally now from the end of the crane, motionless and unaware. A thousand terrible thoughts and questions blustered through his mind – was she all right? was she still alive? was she conscious of anything that was happening? would she recover from this, if they escaped?...

But, most urgently – how in the world would they get her off that crane?

* * *

><p>Down below, in the engine room, the water was rushing in, already swirling around Iroh's stomach. Most of the soldiers had already climbed out of the ventilation shaft by now, via the long rope that Yonten had lowered down to them. But Iroh hung back, unwilling to go until as many of the others had escaped as possible.<p>

As the last of the soldiers began to haul himself up the rope, Iroh grasped the end of it, and glanced over his shoulder at General Ashiro, who was lingering restlessly by the engine room's door, scanning the hall outside for any others.

"There is no time!" Iroh urged him. "General Ashiro, it's time to go!"

"You go ahead," Ashiro insisted. "Don't worry about me – I'll be fine."

"General – "

"Just go!" he growled, rather fiercely. "I can't leave until I know I've done all I could for my men. You were once a general too, Iroh – surely you understand, don't you?"

Iroh studied the general for a moment, stirring with sympathy and regret. But, with a heavy sigh, at last the old man nodded at the young man gravely.

"Do not throw your life away needlessly, Ashiro," he advised him. "But do what you must."

And with that, Iroh turned away from Ashiro, grasping the rope tightly and beginning to hoist himself up the long, sloping shaft.

It was slow and difficult going, and Iroh longed for the strength and endurance of his youthful days. A deep, bitter ache began to claw into his ribs as he climbed – and he knew at once that it was the wound he'd received in the teashop explosion, growing painful and dangerous once more, exacerbated by the effort of the climb. He now regretted not giving Katara one last chance to look at it when he'd had the opportunity.

"General Ashiro – are you coming up, sir?" one of the soldiers called down from the top, his voice reverberating dizzily down the shaft.

For a dreadful instant – perhaps due to the deafening resonance of the soldier's voice, in addition to the exertion of climbing the shaft and the reawakening pain of his injury – Iroh's vision swam and blurred and flickered into blackness, only briefly, then restored itself. He clutched the rope and leaned against the side of the shaft, breathing slowly and carefully.

"No, it's me," he called up after a moment. "Ashiro will be coming up shortly, don't worry."

They must have heard the painful strain in his voice, because another of the soldiers immediately shouted in alarm, "Are you all right, Iroh?"

With a grunt of determination, Iroh again began to pull himself farther up the shaft, muttering through his teeth, "Yes. I'll be fine."

"Do you need any help? – Here, help me hoist him up, Heitai!"

A moment later, as Iroh continued to ascend the sloping air shaft, he felt a tug on the rope from above, and then a stronger pull, helping him along his way. He could hear the soldiers at the top of the shaft, grunting as they hauled on the rope to pull him up.

He continued climbing on his own, even as they pulled him forward, using the increasingly diagonal slant of the vent to steady himself. But his old heart palpitated, and beads of sweat dripped down his brow – and, oddly, as he neared the top, he began to chuckle, despite the sharp growing pain of his injury.

"Is there something wrong, Iroh?"

"No, no, I'm fine." He chuckled again, rather grimly. He couldn't help it. Here he was – the legendary Dragon of the West, who only eight years ago had been in good enough health and strength to break himself out of prison with his bare hands – now struggling to climb up an air vent. The thought of it struck him as rather absurd, but did fill him with enough indignant vigor to drive him doggedly to the top of the shaft.

But at the top, just as he was about to emerge, he reached forward to grab the rope and pull himself out – and the frayed strands snapped loose in his grasp. The rope broke completely, and he nearly went plummeting all the way back down the long shaft. One of the soldiers who had helped pull him up frantically reached out to catch his arm, and Iroh threw his other hand against the wall of the shaft, digging his heels into the metal walls as well and halting his fall with only the strength of his own limbs. For a second he merely froze like that, suspended precariously, huffing steadily and calming his racing heart, and the soldier who'd reached for his arm stood frozen as well, half inside the shaft himself, holding desperately onto the edge of the opening with his other hand.

"I am all right," Iroh assured him, after they'd both taken a second or two to breathe. "Here – pull me up."

A couple of the other soldiers came to help, and all together they helped Iroh haul himself up and out of the ventilation shaft. As soon as he was out, they all released a sigh of relief – Iroh included.

"But the rope!" the soldier named Heitai cried in dismay. "What about the general? How will he get up now? We have to find another to lower down – "

But there was no time. They were interrupted by the fierce crack of lightning.

It tore through the air, in a blinding flash, so suddenly that it seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

Then across the slanting deck came Suki, racing toward them as fast as she could, emerging through the morning mist, fans gleaming and hair flying.

"Behind me!" she was bellowing. "_Behind me!_"

There was no need for further explanation.

Another bolt of lightning came quickly – a streak of rupturing light and cold fury – and Suki threw herself forward, rolling on the deck, while Azula's lightning snapped viciously over her head.

Reacting almost instinctively, Iroh lunged forward and caught the stray lightning bolt in his fingertips, coolly redirecting it and launching it back into the misty fog whence it had come, just as Azula's own shadowy figure took shape. Azula dodged the bolt, stumbling back against the ship's railing, gasping in surprise at having her lightning suddenly return to her like a boomerang.

By then, Suki had clambered back to her feet and turned to face Azula, swiftly assuming a defensive stance, fans shimmering in the pale sunlight, as Iroh and the soldiers quickly came to her defense.

And Azula looked up, saw that there was now an army gathered against her – and immediately turned and sprinted back the way she'd come, towards the bow.

"She's going back to the crane!" Iroh roared, taking off after Azula, with Suki before him and the soldiers behind him. "She will detonate the bomb!"

"I'll stall her," Suki shouted back at him over her shoulder as she ran. "Uncle – get to the lifeboats! Everyone needs to get as far away from the ship as possible, fast!"

"You can't hold her off on your own, Suki!" Iroh growled, wincing against the pain of his wound as he ran, but pushing himself forward faster nevertheless. Yet even still, he glanced at one of the soldiers running beside him and barked, "Get as many as you can to the lifeboats! Hurry! This ship is going down fast, one way or another!"

* * *

><p>Once the captive officers in the bridge were all free of their bonds, it was only a matter of moments before they'd all completely dismantled the barricade Azula had piled up in front of the door, flung the door open wide and burst out onto the metal staircase outside.<p>

Yonten leaped adroitly over the edge of the stairs, fluttering lightly down to the sloping deck below. The lifeboats all hung beside the railing there, tied up in a long line down the length of the ship toward the stern. Yonten turned and shouted back up to those at the top of the stairs, "Hurry, take the lifeboats! Get out of here, quickly! I'm going to go find – "

But before he even finished his sentence, a blast of blue fire burst out of the mist in the distance, from the direction of the stern, forcing him to leap backwards against the rail of the ship with a cry of surprise.

Turning, he saw Azula sprinting towards him, and knew at once that she was on her way to the crane to kill Toph, or detonate the bomb – or both. Gritting his teeth fiercely, he sprang lightly forward into her path, sweeping his arms in a swift, broad motion. An enormous gust of air spun from him, tossing Azula off her feet – he'd meant to toss her overboard, but she caught the railing and deftly flipped herself back onto the slanting deck, already raising her fists for another Firebending strike. But before the fire released he hit her with another onslaught of air, shoving her back further – she was _not_ going to get to that crane, even if it killed him.

Suddenly a faint whistling sound pierced the air, and Yonten saw a gleaming metal object come soaring through the fog from behind Azula. It was one of Suki's fans, and Azula turned just in time, bending over backwards to dodge it; it flew past her and clattered on the deck near Yonten's feet, and he hastily darted forward and scooped it up before it went sliding off into the sea. Clutching the fan firmly, he sent another rapid Airbending strike at Azula, channeling the wind through Suki's fan and sending Azula tumbling back.

Soon Suki herself came into view, followed by Iroh – fists erupting with sharp bursts of orange flames – followed by several of the soldiers, who immediately began launching their own furious streams of fire at Azula. She was cornered. For a flash of a second, Yonten saw her calculating – saw in her cunning amber eyes the whirring mechanisms of her mind, assessing the situation, evaluating her odds – and for a flash of a flash, he also saw sparks of stormy terror and frenzied uncertainty crackling amid her calculations.

Then, without warning, she whipped up a massive, wild cyclone of blue fire around herself. The fire flared and spread, forcing the others to step back and shield themselves for a moment. And when the flames dissipated, Azula had vanished – slipped swiftly away.

"No!" Suki roared, almost hysterical, rushing toward the place Azula had been standing moments before and bashing her other fan into the wall in a desperate rage.

"Where did she go?" Yonten cried, eyes darting in all directions.

"It doesn't matter – we know where she is _going_," Iroh said hastily, already brushing past Yonten on his way to the bow, and shouting sternly back at them, "Everyone, get in the lifeboats! Get away from this ship – as far away as you possibly can! Now!"

Suki followed promptly after him, hoping to intercept Azula at the bow before she could set off the bomb. In the meantime, a couple of the soldiers began to frantically lower the first lifeboat into the water – they didn't have to lower it far, as the water had nearly reached the deck by now – but Yonten, seeing that it would take far too long to lower the lifeboats the proper way, quickly took Suki's fan and swept a slicing blade of air neatly all the way down the row of lifeboats, severing all their ropes in a single strike and sending them all splashing, one after the other, into the sea.

Then he whirled around, darted towards Ursa, scooped her up once more into his arms and sprang back toward the liberated lifeboats, placing her firmly inside the nearest one.

"Go! Hurry!" he commanded with simple severity, turning away from her and blustering off after Iroh and Suki, despite Ursa's desperate protests for him to come back. A few of the soldiers had already gone after Azula as well, though most of them began following Iroh's orders, climbing aboard the lifeboats and propelling them rapidly away from the doomed ship with frantic jets of fire.

Meanwhile, Iroh ran across the open space of the tilting bow, struggling to keep his footing, fighting against the biting pain of his injury, searching for Azula. Suki came close behind him, panting heavily, with a cold, ruthless gleam in her eyes.

"Where is she?" Suki thundered ferociously.

Sure enough, like a nightmare, Azula appeared then, just behind Suki – dropping suddenly out of the rigging, but nearly losing her balance as she landed on the uneven deck. And that brief moment of imbalance undoubtedly saved Suki from having her neck snapped immediately. Suki whirled around and swiped at Azula's head with her remaining fan, sending Azula staggering back a few steps; Iroh instantly hurled a blast of fire at her, which she evaded, diving to the deck and adroitly springing to her feet once more – fingers sparking with crackling light, eyes locked on the bomb at the base of the crane. But Iroh lunged toward her more quickly than she anticipated, and he took hold of her hand in a firm grip, absorbing the lightning before it had even launched; he shot it high into the sky with a deafening crack. And Azula choked out a surprised gasp, and roared in pain as he twisted her arm in his unexpectedly powerful grip and sent her hurtling, pitching and sliding uncontrollably down the steep slope of the deck and straight for the sea.

"We have to get Toph down from there!" Iroh thundered, turning back to Suki just as Yonten and more of the soldiers came racing up, gathering around the crane.

"But the bomb – " Suki cried.

"It doesn't matter!" Iroh shook his head firmly. "She'll be dragged down with the ship if we don't get her down!"

"I can do it," Yonten said, already bounding lightly up onto the crane, still clutching Suki's fan. "But you all need to get away from here now! The bomb will go off as soon as I cut her rope – "

At that moment, the ship gave a strange lurch, accompanied by an ear-shattering screech – and around the middle of the ship, the entire metal structure began to warp and bend, cracking and groaning as the hull split apart. They all realized that the ship was beginning to break up, and as it did so, more water would begin to gush in down below, dragging the entire thing to the bottom of the ocean even faster. In a terrible jerking motion that shook everyone off their feet, the bow careened almost entirely onto its side, the front end of it rising slightly up out of the water and into the air. Every inch of the ship creaked and groaned, like an enormous animal unleashing its last dying cries.

Yonten grasped the crane tightly when the ship lurched, holding on for dear life – as did Iroh and a couple of the soldiers, though most of them immediately went sliding off into the water below. Suki also went sliding, but managed to catch herself on the edge of the great gash in the deck. And just as she did so, Azula came leaping up out of the water toward her once more, propelling herself up the steep deck with fiery jets from her hands and feet.

Suki barely had time to react before Azula grasped a handful of her hair and pulled back viciously, causing Suki to scream in pain – then began using Suki as something of a human stepladder to boost herself back up the deck toward the crane, doing her best to throw Suki off into the ocean in the process. She climbed onto Suki's shoulders and launched herself upward with a burst of searing hot fire from her feet – burning the flesh nearly right off of Suki's shoulders.

The pain swept over Suki like a numbing shockwave, and when she screamed her voice didn't even sound like her own. For a brief instant her head spun itself into knotted circles and her eyesight shut off, and she nearly lost her grip on the ship – nearly lost her grip on anything real at all – nearly went plunging into the frigid sea.

But after a second she recovered herself, every inch of her throbbing with dizzy pain. And with a burst of frenzied rage, Suki hurled her fan upward at Azula, desperate just to hurt her in any way she could. The fan struck Azula in the arm, near her elbow, cutting a deep wound and drawing forth a howl of agony from her – which, for Suki at that moment, was the most gloriously satisfying sound she'd ever heard.

Azula then lost her grip on the sloping deck and went sliding back down, and Suki – now injured and weaponless and still doing her best just to hold on to the ship – managed to reach out and snatch at Azula's hair, ripping at it with savage fury. Azula screamed with pain and rage, then whirled on Suki and struck her across the face, slicing her skin with her jagged fingernails. Suki recoiled with a gasp, and finally lost her grip, pitching backwards and tumbling into the icy sea below. And Azula once more thrust herself up the deck toward the crane, her thoughts fixed stubbornly, almost obsessively, on the single goal of detonating that bomb, destroying the ship and everyone else with it.

Meanwhile, Iroh clung to the base of the crane to keep from sliding down into the sea himself. He strained his head back and glanced up at Yonten, shouting, "Hurry, get Toph!"

Yonten nodded hastily and began to scale the narrow length of the crane – which now rose almost vertically into the air, thanks to the angle of the ship. Toph still dangled from the end of the rope, hanging almost flush now with the crane itself, and she seemed to be completely unconscious – at least, Yonten desperately told himself that she was just unconscious – entirely unaware of the chaos going on around her.

Glancing down once again, Iroh saw Azula propelling her way up the deck toward him. She fixed him with a venomous glower; he held her gaze sternly.

"Azula," he shouted at her, in a voice of deep thunder. "You only bring destruction upon yourself!"

For a moment she paused, gripping the deck firmly, then snarled at him like a wild cat.

"No one asked you, Uncle!" she spat, hurling a wild stream of fire at him.

Iroh then released his grip on the crane, rolling hastily aside to avoid the fire – instantly, of course, he went sliding down the deck towards the ocean, with nothing to stop his fall. But he didn't want to stop now. Now was the time to abandon ship. As he slid past Azula, she tried hitting him with another Firebending blast; but she missed, and before he hit the water he managed to turn and strike her one last time with a slender whip of fire.

Azula shrieked in pain, but quickly pushed thoughts of Uncle out of her head, instead turning back to the crane. The Airbender was nearly to the top now – nearly to the place where the blind Earthbender was hanging. And the bomb was within her reach.

It was at that moment that Azula looked into the sky and saw a familiar white shape drawing near.

The Avatar's sky bison.

Her thoughts whirred, buzzed, crackled – the bison – and who would be riding it? No doubt the Waterbender and her brother – and Zuko. Yes, Zuko, undoubtedly. Coming to rescue Uncle. Coming to rescue his mother.

So Zuzu thought he'd show up and save the day, did he?

All at once, an irresistibly glorious idea took root in Azula's mind, sprouting and spreading and choking out all other ideas. She'd just thought of the one thing better than forcing Zuko to watch everyone die.

Electricity sparked from her fingertips, and a smile of wild glee flickered in her eyes.

She unleashed the lightning bolt, but not at the bomb, and not at Toph – at the Airbender. It struck the crane just where he was about to put his hand, and he recoiled sharply with a cry of surprise; the electricity surged through the metal, seizing his muscles and fixing his other hand tightly in place where it gripped the crane, burning through his every nerve in an instant. He screamed in pain and lost his grip when the electric surge had passed, slipped and began to plummet back down the crane, grasping at the metal structure frantically to regain his hold. When he'd managed to catch himself, he glanced down at Azula – who was now at the base of the crane, and beginning to climb – and he saw the flames seething around her fists.

Panicking, he swept down the most powerful arc of air he could muster at her, hoping to knock her off the crane. But she managed to keep her grip when the gust hit her, and retaliated with a very long and powerful stream of fire that rolled directly up the length of the crane at him. He tried to block it with a shield of air, but to little avail, and the force of it – as well as the sudden searing heat that surged through the metal – caused him to lose his grip again and finally go tumbling off the crane, back down to the deck below.

The entire ship was nearly completely sideways by now, and being quickly swallowed into the sea. Most of the lifeboats had propelled themselves quite far from the ship, and the people who'd fallen into the sea were swimming towards the lifeboats with all their might. Yonten plummeted toward the ship, catching himself with a quick burst of air and clutching at the starboard railing to keep from falling the rest of the long way down the deck into the sea. Grunting, he pulled himself up and over to the outer side of the railing, balancing precariously and gazing up at the crane in despair as Azula continued climbing to the top.

But she hadn't detonated the bomb – and she hadn't shot Toph. What was she doing?

Then he looked into the sky, and saw what Azula had seen: Appa, soaring steadily towards the ship, with Sokka and Zuko on his back.

Then he glanced around at the horizon, and saw dozens and dozens of slender longboats gathering near – they were still too distant to see clearly, and he didn't know much about the Northern Water Tribe, but he guessed they must be reinforcements from the city, come to the rescue. His suspicions were confirmed when, a second later, he saw thick streams of solid ice begin to gush from the far-off boats, rupturing through the choppy waves straight toward the doomed ship – the work of Waterbenders, no doubt, trying to halt the inevitable sinking.

His mind spun, and he turned his eyes up toward Azula once again, and knew exactly what she was doing.

_She's putting on a show._

That was why she hadn't killed Toph yet, and why she hadn't set off the bomb. She wanted the others to _see_. She was waiting for them – for Zuko. She wanted it to be as dramatic, as devastating, as possible.

"_Have you come to stop me, Zuzu?_" he heard her bellow wildly, with very obvious delight, as soon as Appa was within earshot. "Just look – "

Her words were cut off momentarily, as Sokka's boomerang came hurtling through the air, directly for her head. She somehow managed to duck it, nearly losing her grip on the crane, and it clanged on the metal and went careening back the way it had come.

Then Azula laughed – loudly, viciously.

"Just look at your little Earthbender friend!" she went on cheerfully. "She's in pretty bad shape up here. Have you come to save her? Have you come to save mother?"

Then Zuko, with a roar furious and desperate enough for Yonten to hear even from that distance, stood up on Appa's back and snapped two long, powerful fire-whips at Azula, which she also managed to dodge, maneuvering agilely on the metal crane.

"Come cut her down, Zuzu!" Azula taunted him, still laughing wildly. "I dare you!"

Suddenly, Yonten realized what she was really doing. It wasn't just about Zuko being present to witness the destruction. No – she wanted Zuko to do it himself – to cut Toph down and cause the explosion himself, unwittingly. And, probably, to be close enough to be injured or killed too, when it happened.

"_No!_" Yonten bellowed at Zuko and Sokka. Hastily, he stood straight up, balancing himself on the ship's railing, and began using Suki's fan to hurl the most brutal hurricane-gales he could muster in Appa's direction. "Don't come closer! Get back! _Get back!_"

Just as he'd hoped, Appa reared back, startled and confused at the sudden barrage of violent gusts pummeling him. Then, quickly, quickly – before Appa could get too close again – before Azula could do anything else – Yonten flung Suki's fan through the air directly toward the rope that held Toph, and immediately launched himself after it on a frantic whirlwind.

Then everything happened at once:

The fan cut straight through the rope in a single swipe.

Toph began to plummet toward the deck.

The lever on the bomb released.

Yonten caught Toph clumsily in midair as she fell, and the two of them went flying far from the ship, plunging at last into the icy sea.

And Azula leaped frantically off the crane in the opposite direction, propelling herself away from the ship with desperate bursts of flame.

The bomb on the crane detonated –

Then another, somewhere down below in the ship –

Then another, and another –

And in a matter of seconds, the entire ship had gone up in deafening, earth-shattering flames – much to the surprise and alarm of the Waterbenders drawing near in the longboats – and of Sokka and Zuko on Appa's back, who for a few moments could only gape at the blazing spectacle in numb horror.

* * *

><p><em>Dun-dun-DUN-N-N-N-N!<em> :D

_Have I mentioned before that it's really hard for me to write action sequences? They just seem to work so much better in a visual medium... And this one was particularly complicated. Hopefully it turned out okay!_

Mai: "Wow. So the ship sank, _and_ blew up? You really killed that ship good, didn't you?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Yeah I did!" :D<br>Mai: "I have to admit, though, I'm slightly disappointed that you didn't also have it get attacked by pirates, then get hit by a tidal wave and swarmed by sharks, and maybe also hit by a meteor... I guess I was hoping for something a little more sensational." *_sigh_*  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well... I think all that stuff might have been a bit of overkill, don't you?" :  
>Mai: *<em>sigh again<em>* "You've really got to learn to recognize sarcasm, Miss Author."


	42. Vigil, Part Three: Aftermath

_Second chapter for today!_

_So, funny story: these two chapters were originally intended to be just one chapter. But, um, it was like 40,000 words long when I finished it, so I thought I should probably split it up... I write too much. Also, really, it just kinda made sense to separate the things in this chapter from the one before. Also, holy cow, this is the longest chapter ever. I didn't realize how long it was until just now... I think the chapter after this will be a bit shorter. Maybe. _:/

_Also... I apologize in advance for the ending of this chapter. Heh. Heh heh. _*evil smirk*

Mai: "Hm, you're apologizing? with an evil smirk? Now I'm curious." *_glances at the ending_*  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Mai! Don't skip ahead! That's cheating!"<br>Mai: "But I hate surprises."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "OK, fine, I'll tell you what happens. Spoilers! Aang finally wakes up, but he's now convinced that he's a flying platypus-bear!" :D<br>Mai: "WHAT_._"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "I know! What a twist, right? How will Katara ever deal with it?!" :D :D :D<br>Mai: 0_0  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Heh... Just kidding. I wouldn't do that." ^_^<br>Mai: "Good. Because I was about to use you for knife-throwing practice if that was true."

* * *

><p><strong>VIGIL, PART THREE:<br>Aftermath**

Katara told herself she wasn't going to fall asleep, as she allowed her eyes to close. She slouched wearily by Aang's bed, fingers absentmindedly brushing against his hand, listening to the quiet, steady sound of his breathing in the drowsy silence of the room, and trying to sort out what she would say when he finally woke up. For, despite her rather brusque dismissal of Sokka's concerns earlier, she _had _taken his advice into consideration. Of course, yes, she thought, Aang probably would need some space when he woke up. But then, how much space? And for how long? What if she was accidentally _too _distant, and he assumed that she still felt the same as she had the last time they spoke? What if he thought she didn't want him?

And those thoughts began to lead her into worries. She knew she'd changed a lot in the last five years; what if she'd changed too much? Or what if _he _had changed somehow, after being in the Spirit World for so long? The idea that the Aang she used to know so well might now just be gone, replaced by an entirely different person...

No, no. That was ridiculous. Even if he'd changed in some ways, he'd still be himself. That was all that mattered. She was just being paranoid now – letting Sokka's pessimism get to her too much, perhaps.

She forced her eyes open lethargically, looking toward the children, who were now on the floor by the bed. They'd been drawing pictures on scraps of paper that one of the healers (a friendly young woman named Yanni) had brought in for their amusement. Oddly, both of them had been quite silent for a long time, fully focused on their drawings. Now, Katara saw with a small smile, Tenzin had fallen asleep in a pile of paper, breathing softly. And Ursa lay sprawled beside him, but still awake, working at her art with a very serious frown of concentration on her face.

So Katara allowed her eyes to close again – just a little. She allowed the heavy silence to cover her like the warm fur blankets that covered Aang. She wondered if maybe he was too warm under those blankets. She wondered if, perhaps, he was thinking about it right now, thinking about how much he wanted to tell her that the blankets were too warm, except he couldn't connect his thoughts to his own voice – couldn't force his mouth to make the words. She wondered if, maybe, he was thinking of a lot of things, wanting to tell her but unable to. She wondered if he even knew she was here, and the kids. She wondered where he was.

As she thought all these things, all at once she was startled back to full wakefulness by the sound she'd been waiting for for hours: Aang let out a soft little moan, from deep in his throat, and his hand twitched feebly.

In the blink of an eye Katara was up out of her chair and on her feet – startling Ursa with the suddenness of her movement, and waking Tenzin from his doze. Katara leaned over the bed, gazing intently into Aang's face, completely forgetting to breathe – completely forgetting about everything.

"Aang?" she gasped.

Ursa scrambled up off the floor behind her, nudging Tenzin and pulling him to his feet. The two children, bubbling with excitement, bustled over to Katara and stood close on either side of her, clutching at her clothes and watching Aang with wide, expectant eyes.

Barely aware of them, Katara took Aang's face gently in her hands and turned it up towards her; her heart could have burst straight out of her chest.

"Aang, I'm here," she said. "Can you hear me? Are you there? Can you say something?"

For a few breathless seconds, he didn't respond at all. But then, very faintly, his eyelids fluttered and he mumbled again – almost too softly to hear at all. Tenzin sucked in his breath beside her, grasping her clothes with fierce anticipation. But Katara was entirely transfixed on Aang; she held her breath as she watched his eyelids slowly part, creak into narrow slivers; for a few seconds she felt him staring at her blankly through his heavy, barely-open eyelids.

"... atara," he murmured, and then his eyes rolled back and he drifted off once more.

"Aang!" she cried, desperate to keep him there with her. "Aang – no, wait, come back! I'm here! Wake up!"

"Daddy, wake up! Don't go back to sleep!" Tenzin exclaimed as well, grabbing Aang's arm and shaking it urgently.

"He said your name!" Ursa whispered, tugging excitedly on Katara's sleeve. "He said 'Katara'! Did you hear that?"

Katara clenched her teeth and boiled, swallowing down a scream of frustration. He seemed to have plunged right back into total unconsciousness again – but it was so close! He was _so _close! It wasn't fair! No – not after being so close! He had to wake up, he _had _to! She couldn't wait any longer. If he would just –

Suddenly, the heavy tranquility of the healing house was shattered, abruptly and violently enough to distract all of them from Aang momentarily.

Far down below, on the ground floor of the building, Katara heard the great front doors crash open – and then what sounded like a storm of frantic madness. People shouting, exclaiming, barking orders, bellowing questions, crying out in pain. And the storm swelled quickly through the building, rising up from the bottom floor to arrive just outside the door of their room within a matter of seconds.

"What's that?" Tenzin asked, as both he and Ursa glanced up at Katara in alarm.

Katara was staring at the closed door of the room, listening to the chaos stirring outside, and her heart thudded for a reason she wasn't sure of. A dark, uneasy feeling crept over her, and she suddenly knew – or, at least, very strongly suspected – that whatever was going on out there had something to do with Zuko. With whatever Zuko had failed to tell her earlier, when they'd spoken and she'd sensed that he was hiding something.

But she'd assumed then that it wasn't anything disastrous – not any major crisis. Now, from the sounds of it, it seemed her assumption had been wrong.

Quickly – aggravated about being interrupted just as Aang was about to wake up, but too worried to ignore the tumult going on outside – she ran to the door and threw it wide open. Tenzin and Ursa crowded into the doorway beside her, peering into the corridor with her.

The hallway was a storm of bustling chaos, simmering with people darting here and there like panicked ants whose mound had just been disturbed. The healers were calling to one another for water, blankets, assistance – Water Tribe men in thick furs rushed alongside soldiers in Fire Nation uniforms, carrying other wounded or ailing soldiers into vacant rooms, while the healers hastily waved them inside.

And amid the madness, Sokka suddenly appeared, pushing through the flurry of people and rushing down the hall at a breakneck speed, carrying a small rag of a person in his arms: pale as a corpse, entirely wrapped up in blankets, except for booted feet and dangling arms that appeared to have had the skin ripped off in violent strips.

"Move! Out of the way!" he was screaming thunderously as he ran, holding the person tightly and clearly trying not to jostle her too much. He looked positively frantic, out of his mind with panic. Healers, Waterbenders and Fire Nation soldiers all leaped out of his way, seeing in his eyes that he was perfectly willing to trample them if they didn't. Katara couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so alarmed, and it sent a deep quake of dread through her soul.

"Sokka, what's – ?" she began, frowning in fearful bewilderment. He darted a hasty glance at her, but raced right past her without a word, in too much of a frenzy to explain. But as he rushed past, Katara caught a glimpse of the pallid face of the person in his arms – and in a single, horrible instant, recognition flooded over her like an icy onslaught.

_Toph._

"What happened?" she shrieked in horror, immediately darting out into the hall. "Sokka! What happened to her? Is she alive? _What happened?!_"

Three or four healers began to run after him, shouting frenetic things to one another, darting into rooms here and there to gather supplies, while another guided Sokka into a room at the end of the hallway. He slipped quickly inside with Toph, followed by the healers.

Katara had to struggle to catch her breath for a moment – at last turning hastily toward the children and ushering them back into Aang's room.

"You two, stay here!" she ordered them severely. "Do _not _leave this room, you understand me? I'll be back in just a few minutes. Tenzin – keep an eye on your father."

"Should we come get you if he wakes up?" Tenzin asked, wide-eyed with confusion and worry.

Katara bit her lip, inwardly ripping apart at the seams – but she shook her head. "No, just stay here. I don't want you or Ursa getting lost. Okay? And don't worry. I'll be back soon."

Tenzin nodded gravely, and Ursa – with a nervous frown – took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Katara knelt and gave him a quick hug, and then turned and stepped across to Aang. His eyes were completely closed again, as if he was as far from consciousness as possible, and he showed no more signs of stirring – but she tremored with agony to leave him, nevertheless.

"Aang," she whispered, touching his face gently. "I'll be back soon, okay? Just – wait. Wait for me."

She hesitated for an anxious second, praying that he could hear her. Then she leaned down and quickly kissed his forehead, and rushed out into the hallway in an urgent flurry to follow after Sokka and Toph.

As she burst out into the noisy hallway, she nearly plowed right into Yonten, who jumped in alarm at her sudden appearance – gaping at her with wide, harried eyes.

"Yonten!" she gasped, grabbing his arm and causing him to flinch. "You're here! Are you all right? What happened to Toph? What happened?"

He stared at her dizzily for a few moments, as if he didn't recognize who she was. Then he furrowed his brow, shuddered, and simply whispered, "Azula."

Katara's blood ran cold – not because she was surprised to hear that Azula was somehow behind this madness (who else would it be?), but because of the eerie horror in Yonten's eyes and voice as he spoke her name.

At that moment, Zuko came around the corner at the far end of the hall, with his mother's arm drooped feebly around his shoulder. The elder Ursa looked drawn and battered, her pale skin rippling with uncontrollable shivers. Behind them, a couple of healers helped Iroh, who leaned heavily on their shoulders and winced painfully with each step he took. They led Iroh into a room, and Zuko waited at the door with his mother until they'd passed through. As he stood there, with Ursa leaning on him and breathing heavily, Zuko looked down the hall and caught Katara's gaze. And for a brief instant, a silent, unhappy conversation passed between their eyes: an apology from him; bitter understanding and disappointment from her.

Once the healers had guided Iroh into his room, Zuko led his mother inside, and the door was shut behind them.

Katara then glanced once more at Yonten – who seemed to be drifting off into some nightmarish daze – and took him by the elbow, pulling him along with her down the hall toward the room Sokka had carried Toph into.

"Yonten," she demanded slowly, softly, "where's Azula? Did she... did she escape again?"

He shut his eyes and didn't reply immediately, which led Katara to assume, with burning frustration, that Azula _had _escaped again. However, Yonten at last did speak, surprising her; and he, too, almost sounded as if he couldn't believe the words that came out of his own mouth:

"No," he said. "No, she didn't."

Katara stopped walking then, gawking at him in astonishment. "So, you mean...? Is she – dead?"

He looked at her, breathed slowly, then shook his head. "No."

With a small frown, Katara studied the Airbender; Yonten dropped his eyes dully to the ground and kept them there, quivering with rapid spurts of anxious tension, like electric surges seizing up his muscles now and then. He certainly didn't seem entirely well – though, from what she could see, he hadn't suffered any major injuries save for a few burns here and there. But Katara couldn't tell if what he said was true, or if he was merely speaking in a kind of trance; and after a moment, she decided that the details of Azula's fate would just have to wait till a little later.

"Here – just calm down." She took Yonten's arm again, continuing to pull him with her toward Toph's room. "It'll be okay."

As they drew nearer to Toph's room, however, Yonten suddenly recoiled, wrenching away from her grasp.

"Yonten?" she frowned in bewilderment.

He didn't say a word – merely gaped at her, then shook his head and stumbled back against the wall, sinking slowly to the ground and breathing hard.

Unsure what to do for him, and impatient with worry for Toph, Katara at last decided that there was nothing to do but leave him there, for now, and give him some time to pull himself together.

Rushing into the room, Katara paused briefly, overwhelmed with the scene. They'd placed Toph on a bed in the room, and three or four healers were bustling around her – about as anxiously as they'd been bustling around Aang the night before – and at first Katara couldn't see much of Toph herself amid the scurrying, shouting women with their sloshing water basins and glowing hands. Sokka was hovering beside the bed as well, chattering hysterical fragments of sentences. And leaning just beside the door was Suki, with her head tilted against the wall as if she lacked the energy to hold it up. She looked pale and sick and broken, shivering in a thick blanket; the flesh of her shoulders, where patches of her clothing had been scorched away, was bright red and boiling. And when she turned her head as Katara entered the room, Katara saw that her right cheek was torn with vicious scratches.

Suki's gaze was distant and dull, and her voice was a fragile croak. "Oh. Hey, Katara."

Katara could only gape at her uneasily for a moment; she was about to offer her assistance, or ask if she was all right – or something. But before she could, Sokka's voice distracted her.

"We need Katara!" he was shouting, to no one in particular. "Someone get Katara! I'll go – _Katara!_" Whirling around, he spotted her standing in the doorway and immediately rushed over to her, clutching her by the shoulders frantically, eyes almost bulging out of his skull. "You're here! Fix it! It's Toph – fix her! Do something! _Do something!_"

"Sokka! Calm down!" she commanded him, grabbing his own shoulders with equal firmness and holding his frenzied gaze very sternly. "That's what I came here to do! Now don't panic! It'll be okay! It will!"

He just nodded anxiously, swallowing down his overflowing terror. And she, quivering with fierce determination, pushed past him hastily and made her way to Toph's bedside, with Sokka hanging back near the door, near Suki, as if he were afraid to be too close to Toph now. He took Suki's hand in his and crushed it, then abruptly pulled her into his arms and clasped her with desperate earnestness; and she squeezed him back just as ferociously, shuddering a bit.

Katara, meanwhile, knelt beside the bed; Toph lay utterly lifeless, her skin unnaturally pallid, her hair tangled with melting frost. Her eyes were shut, blue and sunken with icy cold; her lips were blue as well, and so were her swollen fingers. And all down the length of her arms were violent red ribbons, strips where her skin had been rubbed away and torn – by thick rope, from the looks of it – also swollen, and caked with dried blood.

Briefly overcome with horror at the sight of Toph in such a terrible state, Katara covered her mouth, closing her eyes and letting the sickening feeling pass – then gathered her resolve. She wouldn't let this happen. She _wouldn't _let it be this way. Not Toph – not like this.

"Here," Katara said quickly, putting her hand on the shoulder of one of the healers, who was currently spreading her glowing water over one of Toph's wounded arms; she was a younger woman, whose frightened eyes and harried breaths told Katara that she'd never yet been in such a critical situation, and that so far she wasn't handling it well. "I've got this – go get some more water. A lot more. Hurry!"

Katara bent the water off the young healer's hands and onto her own, and the woman ran off at once to do as Katara said – seeming rather relieved to be out of the room for the time being. And Katara deftly took the healing water and pressed one hand gently against Toph's forehead, the other over her feebly stuttering heart. Everything within the Earthbender felt brittle and cold, and life seemed to be clinging to her only by the most fragile frayed threads. Had it been anyone with less strength and stubbornness, Katara thought, they'd probably have given up long ago.

"Toph," she breathed as she spread the healing energy carefully, but forcefully, through Toph's body – coaxing her to keep living, struggling to fortify those flimsy threads that were keeping her spirit attached to her body. "Toph, it's me. Katara. Can you hear me?"

"Get her shoes off," one of the healers, an older woman, commanded the two others, meanwhile joining Katara to spread the healing water into Toph's vital organs, to undo the terrible damage. The other healers immediately began the work of removing the rather oversized boots from her feet.

"_Toph_," Katara spoke again, taking on her sternest, most motherly scolding voice – doing her best to drive away the fearful quiver in it. "Look, I... I'm not sure what exactly happened to you. But, listen. If you don't pull through this, then... then I'm never going to forgive you. Ever. Do you hear me?"

Toph only lay there, as ashen and lifeless as a corpse, indifferent to Katara's resentment. The older healer woman glanced at Katara with a curious and pitiful look – one that stirred Katara's sharp indignation: it was a look that meant that the older woman believed, to some extent, that Toph was beyond recovery.

Meanwhile, the other two healers pulled off the boots, revealing toes that were swollen, like her fingers, and beginning to turn a dead blackish color. The younger healer that Katara had sent away returned then, lugging two large jugs of water and whimpering at the sight of Toph's feet. The others quickly took some of the water and began to try to heal her feet.

"Look, Toph," Katara went on doggedly, in a tremulous growl, fighting her hardest to sound as tough and stubborn as she possibly could. "You're not really going to go out like _this_, are you? Come on, this is just pathetic! You're the greatest Earthbender in the world! How could you just give up? How could you just let Azula _win_? What are you? A... a lily-livered quitter? You _know _you can do better. You deserve better. You _know _it. Now stop fooling around and pull yourself together!"

A burning tear managed to escape her eye as she spoke, despite all her efforts to be strong and stern. The other healing ladies were all giving Katara some rather odd looks now – but no one dared question Katara's methods of persuading Toph to live; no one even had a chance to. For even as Katara spoke, Toph's heart slowed to a weary, defeated halt. They all felt it – even the healers working on her feet. And they all released a collective gasp when it happened.

"No, no! _Toph!_" Katara choked desperately, rising up off her knees with growing panic.

"What happened? Something bad! _What happened_?" Sokka cried in shrill alarm, darting toward Katara at once and tugging at her sleeve in the same anxious, bothersome way Tenzin sometimes did. "Katara, do something! Don't let her – ! Do something! Fix her! Don't just stand there! Why don't you _do _something!"

"Sokka, stop!" Suki shouted rather hoarsely, stumbling up behind him and trying to pull him away.

"Toph!" Katara roared through her teeth in desperate frustration, doing her best to ignore her panicked brother. "Don't do this! Don't do this to me! Come on – I _just_ had to deal with this last night! Don't make me go through this again! Not again! Come back! Come on, you can't just give up! You're _Toph!_ Come back here right now! Do you hear me? _Right this minute!_"

Suddenly, Toph lurched and gasped for air, and her heart erupted into rapid palpitations once more. Everyone in the room unleashed deep sighs of relief. But Sokka continued to be a nuisance, hovering beside the bed – monitoring Toph like a hawk for fear that she'd try some horrible trick like that again – crowding Katara's space and grabbing at her arm with wild, hysterical urgency.

"Is she okay? Does that mean she's okay?" he asked frantically. "Did you fix her, Katara? She's okay, right? Don't let her do that again!"

"Sokka!" Katara snarled. "Will you calm down and get out of the way!"

"Here – can I do something? I need to do something! Can I help, Katara? Is she gonna be okay?"

"_Sokka, if you don't get a grip right now, I'm going to make you leave this room!_"

"Come on, Sokka," Suki urged him, dragging him away by the arm. "She's gonna be okay! Just let Katara handle it. Come on – let's go wait outside."

Reluctantly, he conceded to go with her, and Katara was relieved to have him gone for the time being.

"It's no good," one of the healers working at Toph's feet suddenly spoke up, with soft despair.

"No, she's gonna make it!" Katara insisted, with vicious desperation. "You don't know her like I do. She can make it!"

"I mean her feet," the healer said. "The frostbite – "

"At least the boots helped a bit," said the other one, "but it's still bad. Really bad. And this infection's going to spread, no doubt. I'm just not sure – "

"We may have to amputate," said the first.

Katara was about to protest in horror, when without warning, Toph's hand shot up, grasping Katara's arm in an astonishing vice-like grip, and making everyone jump in surprise – including Katara, who actually gave a small shriek.

"N... _no_..." Toph's voice came scratching feebly out of her throat, hoarse and faded, but quivering with fear.

"Toph?" Katara gasped, heart stuttering, dizzy with relief at her burst of sudden life, faint though it was.

"Don't..." she rasped, with a desperate effort, "don't... take... them!"

Melting with pity, Katara pressed her hand against Toph's head, in an almost subconscious gesture of comfort and reassurance that she often used on Tenzin. She turned to the other healers. "We can't take her feet. It's out of the question."

"But the infection – "

"No!" Katara argued. "There's got to be a way to save them!"

"Well, it's beyond my skill if there is!" said the older healer. "I don't know if even Yugoda could."

"Maybe we could save this one," said another, examining her left foot. "At least part of it."

"We'll save them both!" Katara growled fiercely. "All of them!"

"It's too late!" the older healer cried, fixing Katara with a stern but sorrowful frown. "Look at them – the flesh and nerves – they're dead. There's no fixing that! They've got to go."

"... _Katara!_" Toph wheezed – a fragile, trembling plea that squeaked out of her in agonized terror and despair. Bitter tears were brimming in her swollen eyelids.

The older healer gazed sadly at Toph, then at Katara. "You can't bring back what's dead, Katara."

Katara's heart shattered for Toph's sake, and she allowed her own tears to stream freely down her face for a moment. Then, suddenly, the solution occurred to her – so obvious that she almost burst out laughing with triumphant relief.

"Yes – yes, we can!" she cried, springing to her feet. "Toph – your feet are going to be just fine. I'll be right back!"

And with that, she rushed to the door and threw it open with eager haste. When she did, she found Yonten and Sokka both slumped dejectedly against the wall outside, with Suki standing between them, her head drooped wearily on her chest. They all looked up anxiously when Katara appeared.

"Sokka! Yonten!" she barked, rushing forward and pulling first Sokka to his feet, and then Yonten. "Stop moping around! You want to help? I need you two to go to the Spirit Oasis and get me some water from the pool! And hurry!"

Sokka's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "Okay! Yes – I can do that!"

Without a second of hesitation, he took off running. And Yonten, worried and baffled, gaped for a second at Katara, then at Sokka's quickly vanishing form – then took off after him in a sudden rush of wind. He didn't quite understand, but there was nothing else to do but go with it.

Katara breathed deeply then, relieved, feeling it was all going to be okay after all. Then she glanced at Suki, taking her by the arm. "Here, you need healing too."

"I'm all right," Suki protested, shaking her head.

At that moment, the young healer named Yanni – the one who'd brought Tenzin and little Ursa the drawing materials earlier – passed by, and Katara called out to her, "Yanni!"

The woman stopped, turning back to Katara curiously. "Yes?"

"Could you look after my friend Suki? She's been hurt," Katara said. "And when you get a chance, could you head back to the Avatar's room and keep an eye on Tenzin and Ursa till I get back? And – and let me know if he wakes up, all right?"

Yanni nodded, taking Suki's arm and leading her off. And, with a weary sigh, Katara turned back into Toph's room, kneeling once more by the bed and squeezing Toph's hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Toph," she whispered. "Your feet'll be fine. And so will the rest of you. You'll be good as new in no time at all. You'll see."

Toph didn't respond for quite a while, and Katara wondered if perhaps she hadn't heard – if perhaps her mind had drifted away again. But after several minutes, while the other healers continued to work quietly to repair the other damage her body had sustained, and Katara worked to heal the ghastly wounds on her arms and wished that Sokka and Yonten would hurry up with that spirit water, Toph suddenly spoke again.

"Katara?" she breathed, very softly.

Katara's eyes lit up, and she leaned in a little closer, gazing at her intently. "Yes! I'm still here. What is it, Toph?"

"Did you... bring him back?"

For a small second or two, Katara only blinked at her, taken aback by the question. But then a very quiet, uncontrollable smile spread across her face.

"Yeah," she whispered gently. "Yeah, I did."

Then Toph's mouth also broke into a faint, broken smile.

"Good," she sighed. "I knew you would."

* * *

><p>"Ah! Now this – <em>this <em>is just what I needed!" Uncle declared, sipping blissfully on a warm cup of tea that Zuko had just placed in his hands. He leaned back against the pile of pillows on his bed, and beamed amiably at the blue-eyed healing woman who took his wrist to check his pulse. She smothered down an amused giggle and pretended to pay no attention to him.

Zuko's mother was lying in a bed just across the room from Uncle, and Zuko brought her a cup of tea as well, seating himself on the edge of the bed beside her and smiling softly to himself. It hadn't taken more than a couple of hours for the two of them to recover from their various injuries, once they had the attention of a few healers, and Zuko could hardly contain his relief that they were both safe and sound. It was much more than he'd dared to hope for, back when he'd first received Uncle's distress message and he and Sokka had flown out on Appa, with no idea what they would find.

"_Oh_," Ursa sighed contentedly after taking a sip of the tea. "Oh, that's perfect. Just _perfect_."

"Thank you, Zuko," Uncle grinned at him. "You have not always been the greatest tea-maker in the world. But you keep this up, and who knows? Perhaps when you're my age, you may be better with teas than I am!"

"I don't think that's possible, Uncle," Zuko smiled quietly. "But I'm glad you like it."

His mother took hold of his hand suddenly and squeezed it tightly; he squeezed hers back, overwhelmed suddenly with the beautiful fullness he felt, the joy of how much he had – how lucky he was. For that rare small moment, with his uncle and his mother, nothing else mattered.

Only Little Ursa was missing. He was just about to get up and fetch her, assuming that she was still in Aang's room – when, unexpectedly, the door opened and Chief Arnook himself stepped solemnly into the room.

"Fire Lord Zuko," he said gravely, with a respectful bow.

Zuko immediately rose off the bed and returned the bow – outwardly composed and gracious, but inwardly seething with discomfort. To be honest, he'd been feeling a bit unwelcome in this city from the moment they'd first entered it, and especially in the presence of the Chief or anyone who worked under him. Not that anyone had treated him uncivilly – but simply because Zuko felt fairly certain that even if the people, and the Chief, respected him as an honorable leader and a man of peace, it still wasn't easy for a city like this one, isolated and unused to foreigners of any kind, to welcome the Fire Lord with open arms after a hundred years of war, regardless of his character. Not only that, but Zuko couldn't help always remembering that the last time he'd been in this city, his nation had not only invaded the city, but had also brought about the death of the Chief's only daughter. Zuko figured Chief Arnook probably had no idea that Zuko had been there himself during the siege; but he still got the feeling that the Chief had to struggle not to be reminded of his loss each time he looked at Zuko.

Only adding to Zuko's discomfort now was the fact that he knew _exactly _what Chief Arnook had come here to speak to him about – and it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"So," said the Chief slowly, "I understand that I now have a dangerous Firebending murderess in my city."

"She's been subdued," Zuko replied carefully. "It's all under control, I promise. Your Waterbenders helped capture her after the explosion – "

"And you're _positive _that she's secure?"

"I saw them lock her up myself. I'm sure you already know the strength of your own prison, Chief."

Chief Arnook eyed him uneasily. "And... I assume you're going to... _deal _with her?"

"Of course."

There was a long pause. Then finally, the Chief asked, "_How _are you going to deal with her, exactly?"

Zuko hesitated then. He'd rather hoped the Chief wouldn't ask. His back was turned to his mother now, but even still he could feel her eyes burning straight through the back of his head. Uncle watched him too, carefully – but didn't intervene.

What were they thinking? Zuko wondered. What did they believe was best now? He hadn't had a chance to speak to them about Azula yet. He wasn't even certain what he himself thought was best. He almost wished that Azula had just been killed in the explosion – then her death would have been her own fault, and out of their control. But no – of course she survived, as she always seemed to do somehow. Now she'd _have_ to be dealt with; now her fate was in their hands.

When Zuko didn't respond, Chief Arnook breathed a troubled sigh. "Fire Lord," he said, "I think you are a good man, and I respect you as a friend of the Avatar, and of Sokka and Katara. So please don't take this the wrong way, but – I simply can't abide a guest who brings danger into my city. I want Azula gone, as soon as possible. How you choose to deal with her is your decision, not mine; she is a Fire Nation citizen, and a member of your family. She's not my concern – but, for the sake of my own people's safety, I have to demand that you get her out of this city, one way or another. Before she _becomes _my concern. Please."

Zuko bowed his head again, hiding an uncomfortable wince. "Understood, Chief Arnook. We'll do all we can, I assure you."

When the Chief left them alone again, Zuko released a long, miserably aggravated sigh.

"_Five years_," he growled, almost to himself more than to Uncle or Ursa. "It took us five years to catch her. And now that we've finally got her locked up safe again, we can't keep her here." He tore his fingers through his hair, exasperated, and collapsed once more onto his mother's bed. "I – I don't know what to do," he finally confessed hopelessly.

"Zuko," Ursa said softly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed with a slight groan, and scooting up alongside him. "Darling – you don't have to figure this out alone. You've got us. And Azula's just as much a part of our family, and just as much our problem to deal with, as she is yours."

"But I almost _didn't_ have you," Zuko argued, in a painful hush. "I almost lost you. Both of you. Because of Azula. It should be such a simple solution, shouldn't it? After everything she's done. Not only to the two of you, but everyone. She's killed and hurt so many others. She's made all our lives a nightmare. She... she took Mai..."

He trailed off then, clenching his fists with quivering fury, remembering – remembering... Feeding the anger. _Making_ himself remember. The look on Mai's face when he first asked her to marry him – the way she would tease his hair, and roll her eyes – the way it used to feel when she was lying beside him, or was wrapped up in his arms – the way she looked when she carried tiny baby Ursa in her arms, so many years ago... And the way she'd looked when they found her murdered in the streets. The way he'd felt when he first learned what had happened, when he'd first learned of Azula's cruel scheme...

He remembered and remembered – letting the grief grow sharp again, dig into his heart again – scraping up the will and the anger to motivate himself to punish Azula the way she deserved.

"Zuko," Uncle said gravely, scrutinizing Zuko in his knowing way, as if he could see straight through him into all of his thoughts. "Don't do that. Do not wallow in your anger and grief – you've already done that before, five years ago, and it nearly destroyed you – in case you've forgotten."

Zuko dropped his eyes to the ground, furrowing his brow fiercely. "No," he murmured. "I haven't forgotten, Uncle." He took a deep breath, then looked back up at the old man. "But what do you think I should do? Don't _you _think that she deserves...?" Oddly, he couldn't manage to finish his sentence.

Uncle hesitated thoughtfully, breathing deeply. "I do understand what you are saying, Zuko, and yes, I agree. Azula is not only insane, but she is extremely dangerous to all of us, and has done more than enough to deserve the harshest of punishments. Even now, in prison, she is still a threat – after all, it's not as if she hasn't escaped from prison before. And that's something we ought to keep in mind." He paused, with a grim frown – stroked his beard for a moment, then went on carefully, "However, I think Ursa is right as well. You should not make this decision alone, Zuko. And you should not allow your anger to be the driving force in whatever choice you make. None of us should – though we all have ample cause to be angry... We need to think carefully about our options, and the consequences of each."

"I just don't feel like we _have_ a lot of options, Uncle," Zuko muttered bitterly. "We can't leave her in prison here. The Chief won't allow it – and I've got to get back to the Fire Nation myself. Obviously I can't go back and leave her locked up here... So either we try to take her back to the Fire Nation with us, somehow, and put her in prison _there_ – which, considering everything that's just happened, seems like a really terrible idea. Or we... or we put an end to her now. What else is there?"

"Can't we try to – ?" Ursa began, then stopped abruptly, second-guessing herself with a remorseful shake of her head. "No. No – I suppose she's far beyond help now."

Zuko scoffed. "Yeah. We thought we could help her before. Back when we captured her the first time, eight years ago. And look how well _that _turned out."

"It's just," Ursa went on hesitantly, "she was so – _scared_."

She didn't elaborate for several moments, and Uncle and Zuko both stared at her curiously.

Ursa looked back at them with an almost ashamed expression on her face. "I'm not trying to defend her, believe me," she said hastily. "But – neither of you were there. You didn't see her like I saw her, in the last hours up in the bridge of that ship. She was... she was falling apart."

"She's been falling apart for years," Zuko shook his head, with a sour chortle.

"No, no," Ursa shook her head insistently, with a bewildered and desperate frown. "It was different. I – I don't know how to explain it, but... I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. I suppose – well, maybe you shouldn't listen to me. No matter what, she's still my daughter. It's hard – it's hard for me to forget that." She looked away from both of them, with a broken expression on her face – but Zuko saw her shed a bitter tear before she turned away.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hands and groaning again, "I don't know what to do."

"It will certainly not be easy to transport her out of here alive," Iroh murmured, more thinking aloud than speaking to them. "I don't imagine there will be many ships here eager to take the Fire Lord and his crazy murderous sister all the way back to the Fire Nation – especially not after what happened to the _last_ ship she was on."

Ursa shuddered. "Transport her _alive,"_ she repeated in a hush, blanching at the implied alternative.

"It'll take longer, but we could send word back home, wait for a ship to come get us," Zuko suggested – then suddenly shook his head. "No! What am I saying? Uncle, how will we even get her out of prison _at all_, without risking that she'll escape again? It would be too risky to take her out of that prison cell for _anything_. Even... even for an execution." He shuddered as well.

"Oh, Zuko..." his mother breathed, covering her eyes shakily.

"I don't think Chief Arnook would approve of us conducting a public execution in his city, anyway," Iroh pointed out grimly. "But yes – you're right, Zuko. She may be secure now – but the situation is extremely precarious. The slightest wrong move may unravel everything."

"The only safe thing to do is just go to the prison now and kill her," Zuko declared, trying to be very firm and indifferent about the decision – though the words felt vicious and cruel in his mouth as they came, and the voice that spoke them sounded strangely not like his own. When he spoke again, he sounded less certain and more wretched: "It's just... there's nothing else to do. Anything else is too dangerous, for us and everyone else. It's the only option."

He realized then that his mother had turned away from him – as if she couldn't bear to look at him. Was she ashamed of him? Did she resent him for what he'd just said? The thought of it broke his heart, and he wondered if she thought he was a monster; he wondered if he sounded like one. Truthfully, he rather thought that he did. He wondered if she was thinking about his father now: Ozai would have had no qualms at all about marching into that prison and doing away with Azula, if it had been in his best interests to do so. He wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

All at once, a strange vision popped into Zuko's head. He imagined his father being here in this room now, alongside his mother and uncle. He imagined that – while his mother balked at Zuko's cold decision to murder his sister while she was locked up in prison – Ozai would agree wholeheartedly, surprised and pleased at the pragmatic ruthlessness in the suggestion, and would give Zuko one of those subtle, ambiguously approving smiles that Zuko used to crave so much in his foolish youth.

_Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Zuko_, Ozai's eyes would say.

The idea made Zuko's stomach suddenly churn with disgust.

"It just doesn't feel right," Ursa whispered sharply, still refusing to look at Zuko; she bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly. "To just do away with her like that, while she can't fight back. Even with all Azula's done – I don't know, it feels wrong. It makes me sick thinking about it."

Zuko sighed, with bitter frustration. Azula deserved it, he told himself – she _deserved_ it. But even still... It felt wrong to him, too. Terribly, grotesquely wrong.

"It would be different," he muttered at last, "if I took her down in a fight, or something. I could do that. That would be better. It would be – I don't know, _fair_. I guess." He shook his head again, groaning wearily. "But this – while she's imprisoned, chained up and defenseless – just marching in there and... and _ending_ her? Just like that?" He cringed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why it feels so wrong. It just _does_. Maybe because she's my sister... But even still – I don't know. I – I hate her for everything she's done – but I just don't think I can do it. Not like that."

As he said these words, Ursa finally turned her gaze back to him and rubbed his shoulder gently, much to his relief. "There's nothing wrong with you, Zuko," she said softly. "You have a good heart, that's all. You shouldn't feel as if you'd failed. In fact – in fact, I'm relieved to hear you speak that way. Really."

Zuko smiled a bit at her, but then quickly dissolved into frustrated despondency again. "Maybe..." He chuckled suddenly, with a wry shake of his head. "Maybe now that Aang's back, we can just get him to freeze her in an iceberg for a hundred years. That would be nice and easy. Let the future deal with her."

Iroh chuckled as well, then suddenly stroked his beard in grave thoughtfulness. "Hm," he murmured. "You know, that is not a bad idea, actually."

Ursa and Zuko both stared at him in bewilderment. "Uncle, I was – I was kidding," Zuko said flatly.

"Oh, I know," he chuckled. "I didn't mean the iceberg part. I meant more the _Aang _part..." He paused, then cleared his throat with a serious, gravelly grunt. "Well. At the moment, she is too dangerous now to transport home, and too dangerous even to trust to a prison for long. She may be secure for the time being, but we can't keep her here. And yet, we are not murderers ourselves; we cannot simply kill her while she is our prisoner. But suppose – suppose, the Avatar removed her bending, the way he did with Ozai? As soon as he is well again, of course."

Zuko's eyes lit up with sudden excitement at the idea. "That would make it a lot easier to get her back to the Fire Nation! We could send word for a ship to come bring us home, and deal with her there without worrying about her escaping – "

"She would still be dangerous, though," Iroh pointed out gravely. "Just... much less so. But we will still have to be extremely cautious."

"Would – would the Avatar do that?" Ursa asked, in a breathless whisper. "Would he be willing to?"

Zuko sighed rather irritably. "Considering the situation, I really don't see how Aang could object," he said. "But we've still got to wait for him to wake up first. If he ever _does _wake up."

* * *

><p><em>SEVERAL HOURS LATER...<em>

The city had grown dark once again, and the healing house had settled back into its usual quiet stillness, when Katara discovered Yonten asleep on the floor in one of the halls, curled up beside the wall. She chuckled to herself, wondering how long he'd been lying there, amused that apparently none of the healers had bothered to wake him up.

With a yawn of her own, she knelt and nudged his shoulder gently. "Hey, Yonten."

He jolted, startled, and looked up at her, blinking confusedly. "What happened?" he asked.

"Well, it looks like you decided to take a nap in the middle of the hall," she snickered softly. "You didn't miss much, though, don't worry. How are you doing?"

He pushed himself up, brushing his hand across his eyes and shaking the exhaustion out of his bones. "I'm doing well," he repied softly. "How is Toph?"

"She's just fine," Katara answered, with a bright smile – it still filled her with gentle relief to be able to say those words. "She's been up and talking for a couple of hours now. Sokka was with her a little while ago, but I sent him off to get some food... She wanted to see you, actually."

In an instant he was up on his feet, but then he hesitated, flushing slightly and furrowing his brow. "Why?"

Katara shrugged, repressing a small grin. "I don't know. Better go ask her."

* * *

><p>When he arrived in Toph's room, there was no one else there; he found her sitting up in her bed, leaning back against the wall, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting pensively on her knees. At some point during the day, they'd released her hair from its usual thick bun, and now it cascaded around her in a wild black torrent – and for a second, he couldn't help but gawk at seeing it down for the first time, astonished just by the sheer <em>volume <em>of it more than anything else. Her blind eyes – most of her face, in fact – was hidden from view by her hair, though luckily her skin now seemed to be closer to the color it ought to have been. Still rather pale, but not worrisomely so. But he could just see the faded red criss-cross bands all down her arms: the shadow of those ghastly wounds she'd suffered from the ropes.

Before he walked into the room, he had a vague idea that he ought to knock or announce himself somehow – but she sensed him coming long before he even opened the door.

"Hey there, Pipsqueak," she muttered, without even a nod in his direction, while he hesitated on the threshold and gaped at her hair. "Nice of you to come visit. D'you want something?"

She spoke quietly, but for the most part her tone gave little indication that she'd recently recovered from a traumatic life-threatening ordeal.

He shifted his feet, clearing his throat after a moment and blushing for a reason he couldn't have explained. "Didn't you ask to see me?"

"Did I?" she mumbled absentmindedly. Then, after a second of thought, she finally lifted up her head and chuckled a bit. "Oh, right. Ha. I, um – I wanted to give you your shoes back."

Straightening her legs out beneath the heavy fur blankets, she waved her hand for him to come closer, rolling over to the other side of the bed and reaching down to the floor. He stepped briskly across the room – but suddenly felt unsure whether he should sit down on the bed, or remain standing, or maybe grab that chair from the other side of the room. It seemed odd for him to just _stand_ there. But then, perhaps sitting down on the bed next to her would be too forward, too much of an invasion of her space? But then, if he pulled up a chair, that would imply that he expected to stay for a while. But he didn't think she really intended for him to stay. She was only giving him back his shoes.

The unfortunate result of this small dilemma was that he only ended up standing rather awkwardly beside the bed, eyes darting around the room as he tried to decide what to do with himself. Toph, meanwhile, finally sat back up with a grunt, holding his boots in her hand. And as she sat up, she gave him an odd smirk.

"You can sit down, you know."

"Oh," he stammered. He was going to say something more than that, but he couldn't think of anything else, so he quickly sat down on the edge of the bed and kept his mouth shut, deciding that silence was better than saying something foolish.

She handed him the shoes abruptly, shoving them into his hands with a blunt lack of ceremony. And for a second, she looked as if she also intended to say something – but hastily stopped herself. After another spurt of reluctance, she scratched at her chaotic cascade of hair, and finally muttered, "Yeah. So – there you go. You can keep them. They're, um... they're a little too big for me."

He stared at her, then at the shoes in his hand. "Sorry," he said, as if he were ashamed that his feet were bigger than hers. "There wasn't... I mean, there weren't many options to work with at the time."

She snickered quietly, and shook her head. "Yeah, I know. I was... kinda joking around."

"Oh."

"Not the best time for jokes, I guess."

"Well – " He flushed again. "I'm – I'm not always the best at, uh – recognizing those. Jokes, I mean."

"Right." She chuckled again, and fell into an almost pensive silence for a second. Then her mouth curled into a small grin. "Well. Thanks, Pipsqueak."

"You're welcome."

"Even though I _still _almost lost my feet," she remarked, with a startling flippantness that unsettled him a bit. "But – you know, turns out I didn't after all. So yeah. Thanks."

His face burned with an absurd heat, though he wasn't sure if he felt remorseful or gratified or merely embarrassed. "You're welcome," he murmured again hastily. Then – assuming that was the end of what she wanted to say to him, and unable to think of anything more to say himself – he decided perhaps it was time for him to go.

As she sensed him about to leave, she suddenly sat up and reached her hand out for his arm. "Really, though – " she insisted, with a surprisingly earnest look. "I mean – _really_, thanks. You... you really... Um. Thanks."

Now _her_ face began to flush, almost as vibrantly as his, and her fingers rested hesitantly on his arm. He glanced down at her hand, and then up at her, and his heart pounded a bit – then he suddenly remembered that she could probably feel it pounding, which made him embarrassed – which really only made everything much worse.

Just at that moment, Sokka strolled in through the open doorway, whistling, looking bright and cheerful and carrying a tray of food.

"D'aw, are you two having a moment?" he grinned deviously.

Toph just sighed, pulling her hand away from Yonten and smothering a grin of her own. "Shut up, Sokka," she said. "So, what'd you scrounge up for me? Something good?"

"_Tentacle soup!_" he declared gleefully, beaming.

She paused. "So... nothing good, huh?"

"Oh, come on! Don't knock it till you try it." He set the tray down on the table beside her bed, with the bowl of sloshing tentacle soup. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, but smiled faintly – though something about her smile strangely lacked the usual carefree self-assurance it usually carried. "Still doing fine. Definitely not gonna die or anything." She smirked suddenly. "Wanna see my feet? They're doing _fantastic_."

Sokka cringed. "No, no – I'll take your word for it." He leaned against the wall beside her bed and glanced at Yonten. "I see you got your shoes back, Arrow-head. Might want to give those a wash, when you get a chance."

Yonten chuckled softly. Meanwhile, Toph picked up the bowl of soup and sniffed it suspiciously, then tentatively lifted a spoonful to her mouth, grimacing before it had even touched her lips. "Ugh! This is – ! Well... Hm. Actually, it's not bad." She took another mouthful eagerly.

"Told ya," Sokka grinned triumphantly. "So... now that you're feeling better, Miss Beifong, would you care to explain just _how_ exactly you got in that situation to begin with?"

She sighed again, instantly weary and peeved by the question. "_Sokka..._"

"You tempted the universe, didn't you? Like I _told _you not to."

"Look – I really don't want to talk about this right now," she muttered, scowling.

"All right, all right," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. Wasn't trying to make you upset."

"Mm-hm." She irritably shoveled in another spoonful of soup.

Then all of the sudden, he reached out and ruffled her wild mass of hair fondly, making her recoil and smile a bit, despite herself.

"I'm just really glad you're here, Toph," he said, with quiet sincerity.

"I know, Sokka," she replied softly. "You said that earlier."

"Well, as long as you know." He stretched, then gave them both another devious grin. "I guess I'll just go ahead and leave you and your boyfriend alone, then. See you later."

Toph and Yonten both jolted and immediately turned several varieties of red.

"He's not – !" Toph tried to protest.

"Uh-huh, whatever," Sokka chuckled, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Yonten simply scratched his head awkwardly, unsure what to say after that.

And Toph exhaled heavily again, frowning with contemplation. Then she shook her head and suddenly snickered quietly.

"He's gonna keep being a jerk about this, I just know it," she murmured, more to herself than to Yonten.

"About what?" Yonten asked, rather timidly.

"Nothing. Anyway – " Without warning, she gave the Airbender one of her customary swift punches to the arm, causing him to flinch and groan. "You got your shoes back, so run along. I wanna get some sleep."

Rubbing his sore arm, Yonten slowly stood – but an unexpected swell of satisfaction came over him. To his own surprise, he was – he was actually _glad _she'd hit him. More than glad, because it meant she was returning to her usual self again. Beaming irrepressibly – and thankful she couldn't see his face – he knelt, took his shoes, and went to leave.

"Oh, and thanks again," she said, settling down into the bed and playing distractedly with a few thick strands of her hair. "How many times did I say thanks yet?"

He glanced back at her, and grinned a bit more. "I think about five or six times."

"Right." She gave a little nod. "Okay. I'll stop then." Then she waved her arm at him as a signal for him to depart, and quickly buried herself deep in the pillows for a long, contented sleep.

He shook his head, still with his quiet but uncontainable smile, and made his way to the door with his shoes in his hand. "Skedaddle, Toph," he said, using the word as a substitute for _good-bye_.

She just burst into laughter at that, her chortles smothered in the pillow, shaking her head and muttering softly as he left the room, "Dope."

* * *

><p>The streets of the city were dark and half-deserted, as Zuko walked back to the healing house from a visit to the prison.<p>

They'd taken her to a very particular prison in the city – a prison that was not far from the Chief's Palace, and thus not far from the healing house, but was hidden away, buried deep in the icy cliffs that surrounded the citadel. A prison that hadn't been used in decades, for it was designed to hold Firebending prisoners, and there had been no Firebending prisoners in the North Pole in over ninety years: not since the beginning of the war, in the days of Zuko's grandfather Azulon.

Appropriate, then, that the granddaughter who'd been named for him was now shut away in the deepest, darkest, most securely locked and guarded cell in the entire subterranean complex.

_It should be so simple_, he thought miserably as he returned to the healing house through the quiet streets of the city, listening to the icy water roll and crash softly in the canal beside him.

He thought of what she'd done to Toph – and to his mother. And to Uncle and Suki.

He thought of all the good soldiers who'd needlessly died because of Azula – who probably had wives, children, mothers and fathers, friends of their own back home. He thought of General Ashiro, who'd only been a few years older than himself, who'd followed him loyally all the way from the Fire Nation – who hadn't been found after the explosion. Zuko recalled that he had promised Ashiro a promotion when they got home. Now he'd never get it.

He thought of Uncle's teashop – destroyed in the blink of an eye. He thought of Little Ursa, frightened for her life. He remembered Azula breaking into Tenzin's bedroom, holding a knife to his throat, throwing him off the ship. He remembered the panic, the unbearable horror of it.

He thought of the past five years, and lingered once more in the feeling of sickly unrest – the feeling of living in a constant nightmare.

And he thought of Mai. He always thought of Mai.

And he thought back to even before then, before Mai – he thought of Azula back before Sozin's Comet, before her first downfall. Her cold, calculated cruelty; her fascinating and frightening ruthlessness – cunning and intimidating and always ten steps ahead, no matter what – always flawless, always heartless, always victorious, one way or another. She'd been a nightmare back then, too – just a different kind of nightmare. He thought of her on the morning that his mother had disappeared, and how indifferent – even lighthearted – she'd been about it. He thought of how she'd come into his room the night before that, taunting him about how their father was going to kill him, filling his young heart with terrors.

It should be so simple... So why wasn't it?

He stopped walking – nearly turned back and returned to the prisons, to try again – to really have it over with this time. It would only take a moment, and then the nightmare would be over. Just a moment – do away with Azula, put an end to her, remove her and her endless terrors once and for all from the world. She deserved it – she'd asked for it.

_When are you going to kill me, Zuko?_

That was what she'd asked him, when he first entered her cell earlier that evening. It wasn't the words themselves that had surprised him, though – it was the way she'd said it. Not with her usual cocky, self-assured composure, her cool mocking sneer. No, she'd sounded – _small_. Broken. Lost and despairing, as if she thought death might be kinder than life. As if she'd already given up.

But it was Azula. She _never _gave up.

She hadn't even looked at him. She hadn't even moved. She'd just laid there, on the floor, in her thick chains – in a ragged pile, her breath coming faintly, in and out, an icy mist.

It should have been so simple. He could have done it then, regardless of Uncle's advice, regardless of his mother's desire to show Azula mercy. It would have only taken a moment –

But he couldn't do it. He'd wanted to – he'd thought of Mai, and everything else, and he'd _wanted _to, so much. But he didn't – he couldn't. He'd turned and left, without a word, to walk back through the dark streets to the healing house, simmering in his bitter failure.

He thought of going back and really doing it this time – but he couldn't do that either. He knew it would only turn out exactly the same, if he did. So at last, with a frustrated sigh, he resumed his weary walk back, wishing yet again that Azula had just been killed in her own explosion, that she'd saved him the trouble of deciding her fate. He almost wondered, rather illogically, if she'd done it on purpose – not only survived, but allowed herself to be captured, just in order to torture him with this terrible responsibility.

_When are you going to kill me, Zuko?_

He'd never heard her sound like that – never. He'd never heard her sound so shattered and weak, so utterly defeated. He couldn't just destroy her, just calmly do away with her, when she was already so low and beaten. It was like kicking a dying dog – despicable, no matter how bad-tempered and vicious the dog was normally.

And yet, he knew, he just _knew_ – or maybe he just _thought_ he knew – or maybe he felt – or maybe he didn't know, but he couldn't help imagining – that she was faking it. Or something. Somehow. She was only _pretending_ to be broken and pathetic, so that he'd show her mercy. She was only pretending to give up, so that he'd be powerless to punish her. She was still messing with his head.

But was she?

He thought she was – but he didn't know. But it didn't matter, because either way, it worked, and he hated that it worked.

With an exhausted, aggravated sigh, Zuko reached the healing house and crossed the wide courtyard, stepping up through the front door. To his surprise, Little Ursa – who must have seen him coming from one of the upper story windows – was standing just inside the door waiting for him. He scooped her gladly up into his arms, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, quickly dozing off with a gaping yawn that shook her entire body.

Holding her tight, he wandered slowly up the stairs to the long hallway where their rooms were, thankful for her and her quiet affection and her innocence – and also suddenly, surprisingly, thankful that he had _not_ managed to kill Azula tonight. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to hold his little daughter so tightly and peacefully, if he'd come home with her aunt's blood still on his hands.

Perhaps that was just one reason why it wasn't so simple, he thought.

And yet – yet, he certainly would have slept much easier with the knowledge that Azula was no longer existing in the same city, or in the same _world_, as his daughter – no matter how defeated and well-contained she might be now.

As he walked past the door to Aang's room with his sleeping daughter in his arms, he saw the slender dark shape of his mother, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the room.

He felt a strange chill at the sight. It was still eerie and unreal to him that his mother existed. Who'd have thought, only a month ago, that he'd be in the North Pole, with Azula in prison, with his mother alive and real again, and with Aang sleeping silently just a few doors down from all of them?

She turned and glanced over her shoulder as he approached, and sent him a soft smile, nodding at the little girl slumbering on his shoulder. "Out like a light, hm?"

"We've all had a pretty long day," Zuko whispered, coming to stand in the doorway beside his mother, to also look into Aang's room.

Aang was still sleeping – hadn't stirred at all. Zuko couldn't believe another night was passing by without Aang waking up. But more surprisingly, Aang was the only one in the room right now.

"Where's Katara?" he asked.

"She just went to put Tenzin to bed," Ursa explained softly, scrutinizing Zuko very carefully – as if searching for some sign, some hidden story in his face.

Zuko knew exactly what she was looking for: she was afraid he'd gone and killed Azula, silently and secretly, while everyone else was distracted and unaware. Honestly, that was _precisely _what he'd meant to do when he'd left the healing house earlier that evening, even though of course he hadn't gone through with it. Once again, he was strangely glad now that he hadn't. Would his mother have seen it in his eyes, somehow? Would there now be some kind of monstrousness in his face that wasn't there before? – Of course, it wasn't as if he'd have kept it a secret, if he _had _gone through with it. But still, somehow the thought that she'd be able to see the murder etched in his features – that the deed would mark him, at least to her eyes – was a dreadful one.

She must have seen that what she dreaded was not there, though, because she soon smiled gently at him again, and didn't even ask where he'd gone or what he'd done. And he was grateful to her for not asking.

Furrowing her brow, she then turned her eyes back to the shape of the sleeping Airbender in the empty room, shaking her head pensively. "So – that's him," she murmured. "The long-lost Avatar that everyone was looking for for so long."

"Yeah," Zuko chuckled. "It's kind of funny now, isn't it?"

"I still find it amazing," she said, "that both you and I were searching for him years ago. We both somehow got it into our heads that if we could just find him then everything would be fixed. Yet, I found everything _but _him, and you – "

"Basically I just found myself," Zuko snickered again.

"Well, I think we both found that. Eventually, at least." Ursa's face drifted into another thoughtful smile as she gazed at Aang. "Tenzin takes after his father quite a lot, doesn't he?"

Zuko also smiled softly. "Yep."

"You know," she chuckled softly, "you probably won't believe this – but, it's funny, the first time I saw Tenzin, back in the Fire Nation, I thought that it was _you_ he took after."

Zuko flushed suddenly, and his face fell into a grim frown. But he didn't reply.

She glanced at him, also growing abruptly solemn. "So," she whispered carefully, "why are you afraid of him, Zuko?"

Zuko started in alarm, nearly waking up the sleeping girl in his arms. "What?"

"I know I haven't been around for very long yet, but – well, from what I've gathered, the Avatar was one of your closest friends, wasn't he?" She studied him with the kind of knowing concern that he was used to only dealing with from Uncle. "So why are you afraid of him now?"

"I'm not afraid of Aang," Zuko protested, though he could feel his face growing hotter. "What makes you think – ?"

"Then come on," she interrupted him, suddenly pushing the door open wider and stepping into Aang's room, stepping near the bed, and holding out her hand for Zuko to follow her. "Sit with me, Zuko. Come on, sit by his bedside for a little while. Let him know that you're here."

Zuko only stood at the door, silent, staring warily at Aang – yearning to step over the threshold – lifting his foot to do so. But then he turned away.

"Not now, Mom," he said curtly. "I've got to put Ursa to bed."

He rather hoped she wouldn't follow him – or if she did, that she wouldn't press the issue – but she did. He heard her leave the room and come walking serenely down the hall behind him, on the way back to their room, where Uncle was already sleeping.

"What is it you're ashamed of, Zuko?" she asked quietly. "I know that you're ashamed of something, and that's why you can't bring yourself to face him. Believe me, I understand the feeling, and I can see it in your eyes." When Zuko reached the door to their room, she reached out and took hold of his elbow gently. "What is it all about?"

"Did Katara tell you to ask?" he demanded in a fierce hush.

She looked rather taken aback by that, and frowned. "No, not at all," she said. "Why would you assume that? Wouldn't she ask you herself, if she wanted to know?"

_She already did_, he almost said. But he swallowed the words down, and silently turned away from his mother and walked into the room, tucking Little Ursa gently into bed alongside Uncle, whose impressive snoring didn't seem to bother the sleeping girl in the slightest.

He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ashamed because you're in love with Katara yourself, Zuko?"

Zuko flinched instantly, and pulled away from her hand – not in anger, but in something more like wounded terror.

"Mom!" he hissed, hastily bustling out of the room before he lost control of his emotions and accidentally woke up Uncle or Little Ursa. "I – I don't really want to talk about – "

"I know you don't, darling, but I think you need to." She followed him back out into the hallway, closing the door carefully behind her, and studied him, again with that frighteningly aware gaze that pierced him straight to the core, saw past all his façades. "Now tell me the truth: isn't that why you won't go into the Avatar's room? Because you're ashamed of your feelings for Katara?"

Zuko didn't reply.

Ursa hesitated. "Or is it – is it because you're ashamed that _she _loves _you_?"

Zuko blanched, stomach churning. "She – ! Mom, please – don't – _don't _say things like that."

"Why not?"

He simply turned and walked away, unable to bear it, unable to explain.

Of course she followed him, though. "Zuko, listen. I already know about what's happened between you and Katara – "

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "Iroh told me how she came to help you after Mai passed away. I know that you're in love with her – "

"Not anymore," Zuko declared fiercely – though he could almost physically taste the shameful lack of truth in the words. "Look – I just – I really wish you'd just leave this alone. I know you care about me, Mom, but this isn't your business."

Ursa sighed. She probably would have left the issue be, then, had not Zuko miserably added, after a pause:

"She doesn't love me, either. I don't know why you would think that."

She gazed at him, eyes gleaming with sorrow. "But she does."

"You only think that because I'm your son," Zuko said, glowering at her. "You're only telling me that because you think it'll make me feel better, or something. But – "

Ursa cut him off with an earnest shake of her head. "No, Zuko. I'm telling you what I've seen, in the way she behaves around you, and – and the way she talks about you, too. I'm telling you what's _there_. Anyone else would see it, too, if they were paying attention."

The words gnawed at Zuko's heart, and he shut his eyes tightly and winced. "Mom," he breathed. "You're wrong, and – really, this – I wish you hadn't even brought this up. She loves Aang."

Ursa paused, then nodded. "Yes, that's true. Of course she does. But she also loves you."

"It's not the same."

"No, it's not." She shook her head again, with a sigh. "You're right about that, darling. It certainly isn't the same. But that doesn't mean it isn't there."

Zuko grimaced again, painfully, as if he were being stabbed in the heart. "Why are you telling me this? I mean – why are you pushing this so much? Katara and I are never going to be together. That's just the way it is. I don't see why it matters – "

"Because, darling," she whispered, stepping forward and brushing some strands of hair out of his eyes, "I see you trying to hide your feelings away, pretend they aren't there. And I see you pushing yourself away from others who care about you – Katara and Sokka, and Aang too – all because you're ashamed of yourself, because you think you shouldn't feel the way you do. But you mustn't be ashamed of love, Zuko. Even if it's misplaced, it's never shameful in and of itself."

"I just – I _can't _love her," he breathed, his voice strained. "Not anymore. I have to stop. I _want _to stop. I just don't know how."

She put her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, and released another sorrowful sigh.

"I know it's hard, sweetheart," she whispered. "When you love someone that you know you shouldn't. I know – I _know_. It can take a long time to fade. It may never fade completely. But, Zuko – I only want you to see that you don't have to hurt yourself in the process of trying to get it out of your system. I only want you to see what I see: that you are a great man – greater than most – with a good heart worthy of being loved – _completely_ loved. And Katara does love you – but she can't give you what you deserve. She is only human, after all. Like most of us, her heart simply doesn't have enough room for two complete loves." She released him from the hug and stepped back, smiling softly at him. "But even an incomplete love is worth something too, in my opinion. As long as it doesn't get in the way of something greater."

Zuko sighed. "What do you think I should do?"

Ursa studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "I think you should enjoy your incomplete love for what it is, Zuko. Take comfort in knowing that it exists. Don't hide – and don't be ashamed. Then let it go when you can, and let your heart be free for something greater."

He gazed back at her, pondering stormily – her words stirred up his spirit in strange, bewildered ways, and he felt uneasy and frustrated and almost frightened; yet there was something deeply tranquil and liberating in what she said. Again, she reminded him of Uncle – and also, strangely, of Aang. He suddenly realized what a profound effect fifteen years of living with Airbenders had had on her.

At last, he shook his head and sighed again, and whispered, "Okay, Mom. I'm – I'm not sure I understand exactly what you're saying. But – I'm glad you said it, anyway. So, thanks... I'll do my best, I guess."

She beamed at him, ruffling his hair again, then slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and said, "Let's go for a walk, Zuko. I'd like to get some fresh air. And – if you don't mind talking about it – I'd like to hear more about Mai."

Zuko flushed strangely, stirring with a light giddiness that he hadn't felt in a long time – and as he led his mother out of the healing house and into the chilly night, he began to tell her everything he could remember about Mai. And as he did so, his heart swelled with a sharp, fiery, almost childlike kind of relaxation – a distinctive easy feeling that had always only ever belonged specifically to Mai – a feeling that, he only now realized, had faded and dulled so much since Mai's death that he'd almost forgotten what it was like. And once again, walking with his mother and reminiscing about Mai, with Uncle and Little Ursa safe and sleeping high up in the healing house – Zuko felt the beautiful weight of how much he had, and how lucky he was. And he decided, then and there, that he was foolish for being so afraid to face Aang, and that as soon as morning came he'd go straight to Aang's room to wait for him to wake up as well; and, not only that, but he'd also tell Katara honestly how he felt, and he wouldn't be afraid. After all, as Katara had said herself, they were both mature enough to deal with it – and, as his mother had said, he didn't have to hide, and he didn't have to be ashamed.

But before they finished their walk – when Zuko was in the middle of an only _slightly_ exaggerated story about Mai's insatiable and unreasonable appetite for Fire Flakes during her pregnancy – his mother absentmindedly slipped her hand into her pocket, and gave a squeak of mild surprise.

"What?" Zuko asked.

"I almost forgot!" she said, laughing a bit. "I can't believe I didn't lose this! I found this on the ship, just before Azula took over everything and it all went to madness, but I didn't know whose it was. Do you recognize it?"

She pulled a small object out of her pocket, and when she held it out, and the icy moonlight fell over it, Zuko's heart jumped with a bitter jolt, shattering his momentary contentment.

Katara's necklace. The one Aang had given her – the one she'd held on to secretly for five years. The one that had nearly broken her when she'd thought it was lost.

"That's Katara's," he blurted.

"Ah! I thought it probably was," she nodded.

"She – it was her grandmother's," he lied, though he had no idea why, and he felt rather angry at himself for it afterwards. "I mean – she – she lost it. She was really upset about it."

"Well, then. Here you are," She suddenly handed it to Zuko, much to his dismay.

"What? Why are you giving this to me?" he cried, trying not to sound alarmed.

"For motivation," she smiled. "So that you'll be brave and go into that room to give it back to her, and talk to her. Now you've got a reason. You'll do that, won't you, Zuko?"

He stared at the necklace uneasily, trying to drive away the unhappy feelings that it instantly stirred up – trying to reestablish the peaceful certainty he'd been enjoying moments before. He didn't succeed. At last, though, he nodded and said, "Sure. Yeah, I'll get it back to her in the morning."

That was what he said, and his mother believed him. And he believed himself, at the time.

But he didn't do it. He went by Aang's room the next morning, as he'd decided he would – but he didn't go into the room, and he didn't talk to Katara, and he didn't give her the necklace. Aang still hadn't awoken, and Katara was still waiting, and he couldn't do it – couldn't do any of it. His mother's advice, which had seemed so simple and wise the night before, suddenly felt unstable and dangerous. His easy certainty was tainted. And Aang was still asleep.

Why? Zuko thought. Why wouldn't he just wake up already? Why did he have to draw it out like this? What was wrong with him?

He shoved the necklace back into his pocket, arguing with himself – arguing that no, Katara would be happiest to get it back once Aang had awoken again – arguing that Katara wouldn't want to be distracted with his own petty personal issues now – arguing that there was no point in trying to make things right with Aang while Aang was still asleep. That was stupid, wasn't it? What good would it do? Clearly it would be best to wait.

He was being a fool, he knew, and a coward. He knew it, he knew it – he hated himself for it – but he still hid himself away, still did nothing.

He'd just wait till Aang woke up. That was all. By then, surely, he'd be able to work up the courage and the will. Then he'd give the necklace back. Then he'd talk to Katara. Then he'd do _everything_ – just as soon as Aang woke up.

* * *

><p><em>THREE DAYS LATER...<em>

Aang slept on – slept bafflingly, maddeningly, illogically on, with no reason seemingly other than to drive everyone insane (especially Katara). Everyone waited, and Aang didn't wake up, and the world soon felt as if it had come to a bewildered standstill.

And Azula kept silent, too – festering in her deep, dark prison cell in the icy cliffs – as silent as if she'd never existed at all. As if she were already gone.

But she wasn't. And they all felt her dormant presence. Especially Toph.

When Zuko had explained to everyone (for they'd all been demanding to know) what he intended to do with Azula – to have Aang take her bending away, and send for a ship to transport her back to the Fire Nation to be imprisoned for life – no one had quite agreed about how they felt. Sokka, reluctantly, had finally admitted that he, too, thought it was best for Aang to take away her bending, though he personally would have preferred to have her completely _gone_ – but then, she wasn't his sister, so it wasn't his place to say. Katara was also wary of showing too much mercy to Azula, and she feared that they were all merely looking to Aang for an easy way out – but, for the most part, she agreed. Yonten kept to himself, but Suki was livid, unable to comprehend how they could possibly show mercy to a monster like Azula. She did at last concede that it was not her decision to make – but she didn't like it.

Toph, however, had simply left the room, without a word. And when Sokka and Katara had questioned her later, she'd refused to speak about it – had merely changed the subject nonchalantly, laughing and joking about meaningless things, acting as if she couldn't care less about what happened to Azula.

But the third night grew deep, and as it did, Toph, her hair sprawled madly, lay wide awake in bed, stewing in bitter thoughts, and finally made her decision. Rising, she swung her legs out of bed and placed her feet – still tender and faintly numb since they'd been resurrected from the dead – onto the hard, cold floor, and stood, reaching her arms back shakily to pull her chaotic hair into its normal style once again.

Her arms trembled – still fragile and wounded, even days later, even with constant healing. She still grimaced and groaned with the sharp ache in her shoulders, the throbbing in her muscles, the feeling that her arms weren't attached quite properly to her body. But she pushed through the pain and discomfort, determined to get her wild hair under control, back the way it was supposed to be – to reclaim her normalcy.

She did at last succeed, though it was sloppy and she knew it was. But she didn't care; she'd done it, and that was what mattered. She was herself, regardless of everything.

It would be cold outside – she knew it would be. After all, it was the North Pole, only days after the Winter Solstice. She knew that most of the streets in this city were made of ice, and she wouldn't be able to see much of anything anyway. But nevertheless Toph went barefoot, rejecting the boots that someone had brought for her (boots that actually fit), because she didn't wear shoes. She went barefoot – that was what she did. That was how it was.

And so, very late that night – long past midnight – when few in the city were stirring, and the healing house had grown ghostly and silent, a single ghostly barefoot figure stole out of her room and made her way down the long corridors. Although she'd been healed, for the most part, her muscles still tensed and halted uncertainly as she walked, but she kept going, driven by a quietly brewing storm of dark wrath – an anger so intense that it whispered, rather than roared. But it whispered through her veins, and in the most elemental parts of her soul itself.

Yonten was sleeping outside, in the back courtyard with Appa, unbothered by the cold; and he jolted awake in surprise when he felt a hand nudging his shoulder. His surprise only increased when he looked up and saw that it was Toph standing over him, with a grim and rather unsettling expression on her face.

"Sh," she commanded him. "You know how to get to the prison, don't you? The prison where they're keeping Azula?"

He gaped up at her, rubbing his eye in confusion. "Um... yes? Yes, I – I went there once with Sen, but – "

"You're going to lead me there," she demanded, in a soft, hard voice that crushed all possible protests. "Right now. Get up – let's go."

She reached down and grabbed his arm, pulling him roughly to his feet as she said this – but he pulled away from her grasp, furrowing his brow at her in troubled bewilderment. "Why?"

"I need to talk to Azula."

"_Talk?_" he asked incredulously. "What do you have to say to Azula that's so terribly important? And why me? And why can't it wait until morning?"

"That's none of your business, Pipsqueak," she scowled. "I just – I just really need to talk to her, now. Will you do this? For me?"

He frowned, glancing sidelong at her suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing! Just what I said. Now stop asking so many questions and let's go!"

"They're not going to let you in there," he cautioned her, crossing his arms. "Only the Fire Lord's family and the Avatar are allowed to see her. If you want to go, you need to ask Zuko or – "

"_No_." Her voice resounded with such dark fury, that for a moment he felt his spirit quiver. "I don't want Zuko or anyone else with me. I need to do this alone – I just need a guide, that's all. And don't you worry, they _will_ let me in. Now, come on – let's not waste all night yakking."

With that, she took his arm again and dragged him with her out of the courtyard, stopping hesitantly at the short open arch that was the exit, shoving him forward urgently. Sighing, he at last gave in, though everything within him bristled with uneasy displeasure: pulling a hood up over his head, to cover his arrow tattoo, he glanced around cautiously and took hold of Toph's arm, guiding her onward through the silent streets of the city – past zigzagging bridges and murmuring canals – onward through the pale winter moonlight.

As he led her on, he wondered and worried. What was she going to do? Why was she so insistent? Why now, in the middle of the night? Of course, that was fairly obvious. He wasn't an idiot – he knew she'd chosen the middle of the night so that no one else would know that she'd gone to visit Azula. If she'd been able to get there on her own, he knew, she wouldn't have bothered waking him either. And he felt quite certain that she was not going merely to talk, as she claimed – though he wasn't sure _what _she really planned to do. He wasn't sure _she _even knew what she was going to do. But he stirred with apprehension as they walked on, growing more and more unhappy as they neared the prisons. No good would come of this – and yet he kept on leading her there. What was wrong with him? He might have led her elsewhere – though she would have been furious with him, if he had. Or he might have simply refused...

No. He knew why she'd chosen him to be her guide. Because he was the only one she could count on to give in and actually do it. She knew he was the one who wouldn't stand in her way.

And that made him feel irritable – resentful and angry. Not only because she'd assumed that about him, but because she was right. He'd done what she wanted, even knowing that no good would come of it. He was _still_ doing what she wanted.

At some point, while they walked, he realized she was barefoot again, despite the frigid cold.

"Toph! You didn't wear any shoes?"

"Nope."

"Are you crazy?"

"No, I just hate shoes. You already know that."

"But it's freezing! And your feet only just recovered from – "

"Look, I'm fine. Just don't worry about it, okay?"

He glanced up at her face, and now that he was aware of her bare feet, he saw that she cringed almost imperceptibly with each step she took. But she set her jaw hard, stubbornly, and kept on striding forward with unrelenting composure. Sighing again, he let the issue drop – though it only made him feel irritable again.

They soon arrived at the entrance to the prison.

It was behind the palace, beyond a very broad canal with a single bridge so narrow that they had to walk single file in order to cross it. The entrance of the prison itself was almost impossible to find if you weren't already aware that it was there – and though Yonten had accompanied Ursa and Uncle on a visit here just the day before, it still took him a few moments to spot it. It appeared to be nothing more than another cranny in the cliffs, a shallow recess that led nowhere.

However, once they'd passed inside, the seemingly shallow recess revealed itself to be a narrow winding passage, snaking deep into the icy cliffs – so narrow, again, that Yonten and Toph were forced to walk single file through it. At last, they emerged into the first chamber: a massive cavern, broad and dimly lit, with a soaring ceiling that stretched high, disappearing into shadows. On both ends of the room, falling out of the shadows high above, were two slender waterfalls that plunged into narrow canals in the floor, which flowed straight across the chamber at corresponding angles and out beneath the walls – where, afterwards, they slipped underground, flowing unseen the rest of the way into the main canal outside.

The chamber appeared to have no entrances or exits at all, except for the narrow passage that Yonten and Toph had just come through. However, on the opposite side of the room, a line of about a dozen Waterbenders stood guard – guarding, apparently, nothing. And more guards also stood on either side of the narrow entrance, stepping forward and instantly raising a circle of icy spikes out of the ground around Toph and Yonten as they entered, to prevent them from going any further.

"Who goes there?" demanded one of the Waterbenders sternly.

"Toph Beifong," Toph announced, grand and confident and almost instinctive. She stepped forward and placed her hands placidly on the icy spikes that surrounded the two of them. "Is this the place where the Fire Lord's sister is being kept?"

The Waterbenders all eyed her warily. "Yes, it is, but – "

"We need to speak to her."

"And who _are _you, exactly?"

"_Toph... Bei... fong_," she said, very slowly, as if the man was a complete imbecile, as if saying her name slower might make it work this time. "You know, master Earthbender, inventor of Metalbending, co-savior of the world and all that... Don't tell me you haven't heard of me?"

"I haven't heard of you," the man frowned.

Toph scoffed. "Wow," she remarked dryly. "You people really _are _sheltered up here, aren't you?"

"Only the Fire Nation royal family is allowed to visit the prisoner."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she waved her hand impatiently. "But see, the thing is, I'm a close friend of the Fire Nation royal family. Me and Iroh are old buddies. And Zuko gave me his special permission to be here."

Yonten watched her carefully, but kept his mouth shut.

The man narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, even if that's true, none of us were informed, so I'm afraid you're out of luck, Miss Beifong. We can't allow anyone to enter the prison without permission directly from the Fire Lord or the Chief."

Toph frowned. "Okay, then. Well... what about from the Avatar?"

She suddenly gestured at Yonten as she said this – much to his astonishment and dismay. But he didn't deny it; only gaped at her in wordless shock for a moment, and then glanced at all the Waterbenders, who instantly began to scrutinize him dubiously. She crossed her arms and smirked subtly, raising her eyebrows in Yonten's direction.

"The Avatar?" said the first Waterbender, frowning in confusion. He stepped forward, squinting through the icy spikes, to get a closer look at Yonten's face.

"Ahem – uh, yes," he stammered softly, gazing back at the Waterbenders as coolly as he could manage. "Yes. You see, the – the Fire Lord wasn't available to come right now, so I offered to accompany Miss Beifong in his place."

Toph's smirk grew the slightest bit wider, but Yonten churned with discomfort and guilt, and did his best not to look at her, and not to think about what he was doing, or why he was doing it. Luckily none of the present Waterbenders were the same ones that had been on guard when he'd come to the prison previously – and, he supposed, even if one or two of them was, they'd still have no real proof that he was lying. He'd been doing his best to keep his arrow tattoo hidden while out in the city these past few days, still reluctant to publicly expose himself as an Airbender; and neither Ursa or Uncle had really introduced him or drawn attention to him at all when they'd come to the prison before.

"Oh," said the first Waterbender, glancing at his comrades uncertainly. "But – well, excuse me, but we were under the impression that the Avatar was... somewhat out of commission, at the moment."

"Yes," Yonten nodded, carefully, forcing his voice to keep steady. "I've been recovering in the healing house for the past few days, that's true. But – "

"He's been sort of keeping to himself," Toph interjected casually. "He gets sick of the attention, you know. Didn't really want to make a scene."

"Right," he nodded again, more confidently this time. "In fact, I've already visited the prisoner, just yesterday. But mostly we've all been trying to keep my presence in the city... uh..."

"Under wraps," Toph said. "Discreet. You know. Just for the time being."

The Waterbenders were still eyeing the two of them with mild suspicion and confusion. "You're _really _the Avatar?" the first guard asked.

Toph finally sighed in exasperation, then reached out for Yonten's head, pushing his hood back and revealing his arrow. "Look – how many guys do you know with a bald head and arrow tattoos, huh? Not very many. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's only _one_."

"Anyone can paint an arrow on their head," the guard frowned at her.

Without a word, Yonten serenely put his hand on Toph's shoulder, pushed her gently aside, and then inhaled deeply, throwing his arms out and sending a powerful breeze rippling and rolling all the way to the perimeter of the cavern.

"There you are," he said quietly. "Hopefully that proves it."

All of the Waterbenders' eyes widened in surprise, and they quickly straightened up, tipping their heads at him reverently. Toph, meanwhile, grinned discreetly, and gave him a grateful nudge with her elbow. He frowned – only feeling more uncomfortable – but still allowed the ruse to go on, though he didn't know why.

"Very sorry, Avatar Aang," said the first Waterbender, looking only flustered and bewildered now. "I hope we haven't insulted you – it's just, with this particular prisoner... we have to be extremely cautious, you know."

Yonten nodded solemnly. "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"That said," the Waterbender said uncomfortably, "I still would prefer to have the Fire Lord's specific permission before – "

"Oh, come _on_!" Toph cried impatiently.

"We completely understand," Yonten said, with a quick nod, taking Toph hastily by the elbow. "Well, Toph. I think that's it then, don't you?"

He hoped perhaps this was his way out – perhaps now she'd see that it was futile, would give it up and go home and sleep away whatever dark mood had driven her to come here to begin with. He began to lead her back out through the passageway, though she resisted his pull.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"We're very sorry for all this," he apologized to the Waterbenders, bowing his head respectfully. "We were simply under the impression that the Fire Lord had already informed you all that Miss Beifong had permission to see the prisoner. But clearly, there's been a misunderstanding. Sorry for the confusion – we'll simply have to come back later, when it's been cleared up – "

"No!" Toph growled, wrenching away from his hand fiercely.

"Well," said the first guard carefully, glancing at the others. "I suppose it's safe enough, as long as you're there in the cell with her, Avatar. But make it short."

To Yonten's displeasure and Toph's relief, the guards lowered the icy spikes back into the ground and stepped aside, allowing them passage into the prison. With a grin of satisfaction, Toph stepped forward, then turned back and gestured to Yonten.

"Lead the way then, Avatar," she said, with a smirk.

Simmering with uneasiness and irritation, he at last stepped forward too, taking her arm and leading her across the chamber to the opposite wall, where the other Waterbenders who seemingly guarded nothing all bowed quietly to them. Then two of the guards came forward to stand beside Toph and Yonten, planting their feet firmly onto the icy floor and sweeping their arms up in broad, fluid movements. The ground beneath them rippled and shifted, and in a moment they were being carried straight up the wall on a pillar of pure ice.

The ice pillar soared high up the cavern wall, stopping at last at a small opening, dizzyingly high – an opening which had been invisible from the ground, hidden in shadows. As Toph and Yonten stepped off the ice and into the small stone passageway in the wall, the Waterbenders rapidly dropped their ice pillar back down to the ground. Then two more Waterbenders emerged from the narrow passage behind Toph and Yonten, bowing and gesturing for them to follow them into the darkness.

They followed the long stone corridor for several minutes, walking deeper and deeper into the cliffs, now and then passing vacant prison chambers on either side, all sealed up with thick doors made of iron – a rare material to see in the North Pole, but necessary for this particular prison. The corridor they followed ran mostly straight, though it sometimes seemed to climb up, other times seemed to slope downward. And it appeared to be divided into various sections, with increasing levels of security; for every now and then they were halted in their progress by more massively thick iron doors which sealed off the passage itself. Each of these doors they encountered was fastened shut with a very strange, complicated type of lock: a system of catches released by a carefully timed flow of water through a connected channel in the wall. Only very skilled and precise Waterbenders could open these doors without assistance; and the deeper they went into the prison, the more complicated the locking contraptions on the doors became.

Their two Waterbender guides, however, silently opened each door for them, shutting them heavily again after they'd passed through, and guiding them forward, forward, until they had to stop and unlock another one. Thus they traveled deeper and deeper into the dark stone prison, and the deepness grew heavier with each iron door they passed through, until the thought of just how far away from the surface they were – of how much earth and ice was between them and the open air – began to feel crushing and suffocating to Yonten. He started to breathe more rapidly as they walked, sucking in the air anxiously as if he wasn't getting quite enough.

"Are you okay?" Toph whispered.

"I'm fine," he whispered back curtly, still feeling irritated at her. "It was like this before, too. Nothing to worry about. I just – I just don't like being so... _underground_."

She snickered softly at that, which only made him feel more aggravated.

"I can't believe you made me do this," he snapped at her, in a barely audible hush, careful not to let the two Waterbending guards walking ahead of them overhear what he was saying. "I don't even know why I'm going along with this at all – "

"Sh! Shut up!" she hissed.

"Suppose I get in trouble?" he demanded very quietly, but very sternly. "Suppose they find out? Suppose the Avatar – "

"I said shut up!" she whispered fiercely, actually covering his mouth with her hand. "D'you want to get found out _right now_? Just stop talking! Look – stop freaking out. If anything happens, then I'll take the blame. Just relax, will you?"

"I _can't _'just relax'!" he breathed, pulling away from her hand and glowering at her, despite the fact that she couldn't see his glower. "Not when you won't tell me why you needed to come here so badly in the first place – "

"I already told you, it's none of your business," she hissed, with grave severity. "I just really need to... to clear a few things up with her. I have some things to get off my chest. For my own peace of mind. That's all. 'Kay, Pipsqueak?"

"Stop calling me 'Pipsqueak,'" he whispered irritably.

Normally she would have laughed at him again, but she didn't this time – not here, not now. And he didn't say anything else, but all he kept thinking about as they walked was how _he _was the one who had brought her here, despite his own misgivings; _he _was the one who'd helped her lie to the guards, who'd impersonated the unconscious Avatar, to get her inside; _he _was the one who, even now, could tell the truth and stop her, and yet he didn't, and he knew he wasn't going to either. And what was she going to do now? To _talk _to Azula? To "get some things off her chest"? – Oh, yes, of course. Of course, that was all. _Surely_ she wasn't coming here for another reason: to satisfy some desire for revenge, or to take justice into her own hands because she couldn't stand Zuko's decision to have mercy on his sister. No, no – of course, it was nothing like that. She just wanted to _talk_.

He felt the walls pressing down on him as they drew nearer to Azula's prison cell. He felt himself being buried deeper.

What if Toph killed Azula now? What would happen? Would she be punished? – and how severely? Would Zuko be grateful to her, or furious? What about Aunt Sen?... And if Toph killed Azula, would _he _also be punished, for bringing her here, for not stopping her? What would Aunt Sen think of _him_, then?

And if Toph killed Azula – then, what of Toph, of her self? What would Toph become? Who would she be afterwards?... Who was she now?

At last, the long terrible corridor ended, and they arrived at the very last prison cell, the deepest, darkest, most buried of them all. There were two more Waterbenders standing guard outside of this door, to be extra sure – and before allowing Toph and Yonten into the cell, they first checked to be sure they weren't carrying anything at all hidden in their clothes. At last, satisfied that everything was secure, they advised Yonten and Toph to stay near the door, to not get too close to the prisoner, and, if there were any problems, to pull on a cord that hung just inside the door, which rang a bell outside.

The locking contraption on this door was the most complicated one they'd encountered yet. It took three of the four Waterbenders, all working simultaneously, to unlock it. But at last the door was opened, and the guards nodded solemnly to Toph and Yonten as they stepped inside, then shut the door behind them with a loud clang.

The cell was long and narrow, and quite dark – lit only by small lanterns on the wall with glowing crystals inside them (for, of course, it was far too dangerous to use flames). The crystals cast a dim and hazy greenish light, making it all look rather unreal. The floors and walls were, as expected, nothing but blank icy stone; and across the middle of the room, spanning the width of the cell, was a wall of thick iron bars which separated the visitors from the prisoner.

And behind the thick iron bars, at the farthest end of the room, was the prisoner herself: Azula, wretched and ragged, all four limbs bound in heavy chains attached to the floor, lying on the ground in a miserable heap, breathing and breathing in slow, hissing breaths. The air in the cell was frigid, to discourage any attempts at Firebending, and her breaths came in faint icy clouds.

She didn't even look up when they entered – didn't even seem to notice.

Yonten glanced at Toph. She only stood there for a moment, not moving, not speaking – but with a hard, brutal expression on her face that worried him immensely.

He thought about speaking – even opened his mouth to do so, to say something irritable and impatient along the lines of, _Well, don't just stand there! Say what you came here to say_. But the look on Toph's face frightened him into silence.

After a few long moments, in which the loudest sound in the room was the steady whistle of Azula's ragged breathing, Toph took a step forward, and then another, and another – disregarding the guards' instructions to stay close to the door, to not go too near to the prisoner. Yonten's heart thudded with dread; he wondered if he should follow her – if he should leave the room – if he should dart forward and pull her back – if he should ring the bell to alert the guards – if he should do _something_. But he wasn't sure, and so he didn't do anything. Not yet. He only stood and watched, breathless and anxious and brimming with sickening dread.

Azula finally stirred as Toph approached the iron bars that ran across the middle of the room. She moved, jostling her chains, and looked up at Toph. Her eyes were dull and dim; a spark of indifferent recognition passed across her face when she saw that it was Toph, and she pushed herself up into an upright slouch, staring numbly at Toph without the faintest trace of emotion.

Toph stood at the iron bars for a moment, still utterly silent. Yonten couldn't see her face now, but he could see her entire body quivering violently.

And Azula's expression did finally change a bit, as she stared blankly at Toph. Something came over her, briefly: something bewildered, and slightly taken aback; almost disdainful; almost proud. But it was gone in a flash, buried once more beneath layers of dull, defeated apathy.

At last, very abruptly, Toph placed her hands on the iron bars and pulled them apart, as if they were mere drapes. Yonten held his breath, almost bursting with panic, but still didn't intervene. Azula looked only vaguely startled – not by what Toph had done, but by how suddenly she'd done it. And Toph stepped past the bars and strode across, straight to Azula, and punched her in the face so brutally that Azula went sprawling on the ground, grunting in pain, chains scraping at her skin.

While Azula lay gasping and bleeding on the ground, Toph stepped over her and grasped a handful of her hair, pulling her up roughly and leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Listen to me," she hissed viciously. "Listen – I've got some things to tell you. You know when you put me up on that crane? From the first minute I was up there, when I realized what you'd done to me, you know what I wanted then, more than anything?"

Azula cringed with pain, but didn't reply, and didn't resist.

"I wanted to wipe you right off the face of the planet," Toph went on through clenched teeth. "I still want to. _So _much. And it would be so easy – right now."

She paused, as if she expected Azula to say something. But Azula kept silent, passively accepting the abuse, with a distant look in her eyes.

For a few moments, Toph quivered, and seemed to be battling within herself. Then, suddenly, with a sharp cry of frustration, she sent another violent blow at Azula's face, and another, hurling her back to the ground savagely, then stepping back slowly.

Yonten watched it all – wishing to look away, but unable to. He watched Toph step away from the moaning, miserable heap of Azula; saw Toph stand there, every inch of her body quaking with rage and anguish.

"You'd better count yourself lucky," Toph snarled at last, with an uncontrollable tremor in her voice, "that you've got people around here willing to keep you alive, after everything you've done. Zuko – your mother – they'll spare you because you're family. They'll ship you back to the Fire Nation. And Aang – he won't kill you. Even if he should, he won't. That's just the way he is. That's how they all are. They'll show you mercy."

She paused, reeling for a moment, leaning against the iron bars to steady herself. When she spoke again her voice was softer, darker, less tremulous, more dangerous.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not like them," she said, stepping forward and towering over Azula again.

Azula, shuddering on the ground, looked up at her, and suddenly the blank despair in her eyes was overcast by a storm of glowering hatred.

"I'm not going to kill you now," Toph said, in a tone that indicated that, up until that very moment, she truly hadn't decided whether or not she would kill Azula. "Not here. Not like this... But just keep this in mind. If you _ever_ try to escape, or hurt anyone else... If you and I ever run into each other face-to-face again, and there's nothing to stop me, then I promise I will not hesitate to kill you. No questions asked, no chance for mercy, nothing. That will be the end for you. Understand?"

Azula just panted on the ground for a few moments, hissing with pain and suppressed fury. When she didn't reply, Toph spat at her in disgust, and then turned to leave, pulling the iron bars easily back into place behind her.

Yonten released a very loud sigh of relief then, glad that Toph hadn't given into her rage entirely, and eager to get out of that place and return to the healing house as quickly as possible. But as Toph pulled the iron bars back into their proper positions, Azula sat up, and suddenly sneered – and a soft, triumphant chuckle began to trickle out of her – and Yonten's heart went cold with a new surge of dread.

"Wow," Azula wheezed faintly, with an eerie kind of self-congratulatory amazement. "I _really _got to you, didn't I, little badgermole?"

Toph stopped walking. She didn't turn around. But her fists clenched ferociously.

And all at once, Azula's iron chains sprang off the ground with a will of their own, rapidly coiling themselves around Azula's neck. Azula choked and strangled, gasping for air; the metal links dug viciously into the flesh around her neck.

"Toph!" Yonten shouted in alarm.

Quivering with rage, Toph only gnashed her teeth and clenched her fists more stubbornly, and the chains constricted around Azula's neck tighter.

In desperation, Yonten reached for the cord by the door, to ring the bell and alert the guards. "Toph, stop, or I'll ring the bell!"

After a second of indecision, Toph finally relaxed, and the chains collapsed back to the ground with a clatter. Azula, too, crumpled to the ground, wheezing and gasping.

Yonten then allowed himself to breathe again, and let go of the cord. And without a word, Toph brushed coldly past him, shoving his shoulder roughly as she did, and left the prison cell. After collecting himself for a second or two, Yonten followed, unsettled and angry and, mostly, very worried.

It was a very long, tense, and wordless journey back out of the prisons. Yonten wasn't sure what to say to her, and she seemed to have no desire whatsoever to say anything to him. He could feel her turbulent rage brewing silently the entire walk back, as cold and tangible as a rainstorm. And when at last they emerged from the narrow front passage at the entrance, back out into the icy open air of the North Pole, Yonten (glad to be out in the open again) began to draw in a deep breath, but was suddenly interrupted by Toph, who whirled on him and grasped him by the shirt, shoving him against the stony wall of the cliff with a fierce scowl.

"In the future, Pipsqueak," she growled, "if you know what's good for you, _do not _stand in my way again. Okay?"

Roughly, she let go of him and turned away, as if she intended to walk all the way home on the ice by herself, despite the fact that she couldn't see.

Astonished, he gaped at her, heart thudding, flushing with shame and embarrassment and misery – miserable that she was angry at him, that he'd interfered and made her unhappy. But – but, then – then the moment of remorse passed, quickly, and the misery was replaced by a sudden burst of indignant aggravation.

"I hope you'll forgive me, Miss Beifong," he frowned, with a slight huff. "But in the future, I'll stand in your way if I think that you need something stood in your way. For _your _own good."

She stopped walking away from him then, turning halfway back toward him, bare feet slipping a bit on the icy ground. Her teeth were clenched, and her voice rose to a furious bellow.

"And what makes you think you know what's for my own good, huh?" she demanded, quivering. "You're not in charge of me! You barely even know me! You can't tell me what's for my own good or not!"

"I can't just stand by and watch you murder someone in – "

"It's not murder if she's not human!" she blurted, almost as if she couldn't contain the words.

"But she _is _human, Toph!" he cried, stinging with remorse as he saw the bitter tears lurking in her eyelids – but he pressed on sternly nevertheless, with a frustrated sigh. "You know she is. That... I mean, that's sort of the entire dilemma, isn't it? It would be much easier if she wasn't human. But she is."

Toph was silent for a moment. She bit her lip, and turned away resentfully. "You should have just let me do it."

"_Toph_," he sighed again, weary and aggravated. "I wish you hadn't brought me down here at all. Do you think I _want _to be Azula's defender? Of course I don't. But you're forcing me to be. Look – she's done many horrific things, to all of us. But – you, killing an unarmed woman, a prisoner, in cold blood? – in secret, in the middle of the night, against the wishes of her family? – _strangling _her in her own chains, while she's waiting to be – ?"

"So what?" Toph muttered, with a hushed and bitter ruthlessness that chilled his heart. "It's Azula. This is different. She deserves it."

"Well – yes," he admitted carefully. "Maybe so. But just because someone deserves something doesn't mean you ought to deal it out to them. Is it really your place to do that, Toph?"

"No, that's why I – " she stumbled over her words. "That's why I didn't."

"But you were about to – "

"_Look_," she snarled, her voice suddenly cracking with desperate agony. "You just don't know, all right? You don't know what it was like, hanging up there in the air like that, without being able to see or anything... You don't know what – what it felt like, when I thought I was gonna lose my feet... And all of that, Azula did it. _She _did it to me. She's just... You – you just don't understand. If you knew what it was like, believe me, you'd want to strangle her in her own chains too."

He hesitated, shuddering, feeling the heat rise into his face – unable to tell her how much pain he'd felt on her behalf. How much pain he _still _felt.

"I just," he said cautiously, after a long pause, "I suppose I just thought you were strong enough to overcome that, Toph."

That remark dug instantly into her heart; he could see that it did, because she tensed up, and flushed indignantly, and set her jaw in cold fury.

"All right, Mister Goody-Two Shoes," she scowled. "Fine. Sure. Maybe you're right – you in all your special Airbendery wisdom. Whatever – I'm just saying, my own good is _my _own business. Not yours. So from now on, just stay out of it."

"Well, you dragged me down here. Remember?" he pointed out crossly. "You made it my business."

"Then leave me alone!" she ordered him, turning away and once more beginning to walk cautiously across the icy ground, though she slipped and hesitated, unable to see where she was going.

He sighed, watching her take a few tentative steps – frustration and pity battling within him.

"Are you just going to walk home alone on the ice, then?" he asked.

She didn't answer – she was too stubborn for that. She only clenched her fists with furious determination, and continued walking cautiously forward, feeling her way slowly with each step.

And he stood there, watching. Part of him wished angrily to just give her what she wanted: let her find her way home on the ice, alone. He didn't doubt that she'd get there eventually – it would just take quite a while, and she'd be very cold and tired afterward. But another part of him wanted to rush forward, take hold of her arm and lead her back to the healing house, regardless of how stubbornly she tried to resist him.

But after watching her for several moments, debating what to do, he at last decided merely to follow her. To not try to guide her, to not interfere with her progress, to not even make his presence known. No – he'd let her do it on her own. He'd just watch, to make sure she made it all right. He'd just hang around, in case she gave up her stubbornness and decided that she wanted help after all.

She inched her way along the edge of the canal until she found the narrow bridge, and then continued on very slowly, stopping uncertainly now and then to try to guess the proper direction. He kept a good distance away, unsure how much she could actually sense, unsure whether he wanted her to know he was there or not. Honestly, he rather expected that she'd give up and ask for help, or try to turn back, fairly quickly – but she wandered on for nearly an hour, without a word, without the slightest hint of regret or second-guessing – dogged and indignant.

It took all of his will, though, to keep from intervening. She slipped often, and her feet seemed to be causing her pain. And, though she made it impressively far without making a wrong turn, she did finally get off track, wandering into a side street that led away from the healing house, rather than towards it. He nearly stopped her then, just to turn her back in the right direction; but something kept him silent – he wasn't sure what. Perhaps he was still frustrated, and rather childishly hoped that she'd learn a lesson from this. Or, perhaps, he was more just impressed by how far she'd come on her own, and wanted to see if she could find the right way without his help. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

At last, though, she seemed to realize that she was lost, and her stubborn certainty began to wither – very, very slowly.

It still took several minutes, though, before she just stopped walking altogether.

She leaned against the wall of a building, breathing and breathing – he could sense her growing panic, her realization that she'd stranded herself somewhere in the midst of a giant, ice-covered city in the middle of the night. He held back, watching, wondering what she would do.

Then, finally – for the first time in at least an hour – she spoke, and her voice was a small and rather frightened whisper:

"Are you... are you still there, Yonten?"

The question was hushed and embarrassed – he could tell from her tone that she was very sure he wasn't there at all, that she was speaking to no one.

After a moment, he replied quietly, "Yes."

A strange sigh – surprised and grateful and ashamed, all at once – burst out of her. But it seemed she couldn't quite bring herself to apologize or actually ask for help. So, finally, without a word, she simply reached her hand out in his general direction.

He took it, also without a word, and led her the rest of the way home.

* * *

><p>"Aang... it's me again. Can you hear me?"<p>

He only lay still, chest rising and falling slowly with each shallow breath, his face bathed again in the pale moonlight that slanted through the little window of his room.

Three nights. Three long, sleepless nights – waiting. And now another one was coming and going, and he just slept on and on and on.

Katara didn't understand it. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he waking up? There was no reason for him to have slept this long! She felt like she was losing her mind, fighting against herself – fighting against the maddening frustration, the impatience, the despair that had all been slowly rising to a boil within her since she'd brought him back, growing more tangled and tense with every new minute that he refused to wake up. It all wanted to come shrieking out of her now, that storm of wild emotions, like steam whistling out of a teapot – and it took all her strength to hold it in and keep her sanity. But the pressure was becoming unbearable.

"Aang?" she tried again, getting up out of her chair and coming to sit on his bed instead, gathering her legs up beneath her. "Aang, if you can hear me, then – then, I don't know, give me some kind of sign. _Please_. Move your fingers or something. I feel like I'm going crazy. Aang? Can you hear my voice? Can you hear what I'm saying?"

He still wouldn't respond. She watched his face, watched his fingers. He didn't move. She bit her lip in frustration, smothering down a scream.

How long was she supposed to wait?

Was this some kind of punishment? Hadn't she been punished enough already? It wasn't fair. She couldn't stand it. She'd already waited _five years_ to have him back. She'd already gone through so much to save him. It wasn't fair – she shouldn't have to wait any more. Whatever she'd done, she didn't deserve this. This was too much. Why wouldn't he just wake up, already? What was wrong with him? How much longer would she have to wait? How much longer would she be able to handle it, before she simply went insane?

"Aang – " she breathed, and her voice cracked and quivered a bit against her will. Angry, burning tears were threatening to come now, whether she liked it or not, and she covered her face for a moment with shaking hands. "Aang, _please_ wake up! Please! You don't – you don't know how long I've been waiting."

She touched his face, brushing her thumb quietly across his cheek. Maybe, if he couldn't hear her, he could at least feel her – he could know she was here, waiting for him, and would try to wake up faster then.

Exhaustion was washing over her again, though she struggled to hold out against it. But her defenses were only falling more rapidly, the longer she went without receiving any more signs that he was coming back. Her hope was dying of starvation, with nothing from him to give it sustenance.

At last, as a few tears trickled down her cheeks, she quaked with bitter aggravation – allowed a vicious snarl to release from deep in her chest – and finally heaved a trembling sigh, giving into the weariness. Quietly, she laid herself down on the bed, stretching out beside him, with her head on the pillow next to his. Sighing again, with a painful effort, she pressed her forehead into the side of Aang's head, brushing her nose against his skin, and then gently kissed his cheek, and his jaw, and his neck.

"Aang – please," she exhaled, nestling herself in deeper beside him and shuddering with tears. "Just wake up. _Wake up_."

"Momma?" came a little voice from the doorway.

She looked up, surprised to see Tenzin. "Sweetheart – what are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he murmured, rubbing his eye with a grim frown. "I kept thinking Daddy was awake. I thought I heard..." He trailed off, rather bewildered, and gazed at her in sad disappointment.

Katara shuddered again in agony, and bitterly shook her head. She was going to say something, but couldn't bring herself to speak. And for a moment, the grief inundated her, and she almost crumpled under the desperate longing just to hold her son in her arms until morning came – hold onto him for one comforting anchor in the midst of this horrible, maddening wait.

"Tenzin," she whispered at last, holding her arm out to him. "Come here. Will you sleep next to me?"

Almost instantly, the boy trotted across the room and clambered onto the bed, nestling in between Katara and Aang. She put her arm around him and breathed, relieved at least to have him there with her, even if Aang was still elsewhere.

Soon she fell asleep, overwhelmed with exhaustion. But Tenzin still stayed awake, curled up between his slumbering parents, listening to the sound of them breathing together. He felt his mother's heartbeat, thumping against his back; he watched his father's face intently, searching for a sign.

It would be soon, he told himself. They'd been waiting for so long. It _had_ to be soon. It had to be tonight.

The little boy barely slept a wink all night, and it was nearly morning by the time Sokka poked his head curiously into the room and saw the three of them all lying side by side in the bed. Heart melting with sorrow, he carefully went to nudge his sister awake, taking her by the hand and lifting her off the bed to lead her back to her own room. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, and Sokka gestured for Tenzin to follow.

"I'm done," she declared lethargically, when they were about halfway down the hall.

"What?" Sokka asked, frowning.

She just shook her head, yawning again. "I just – I can't do this anymore. I can't wait anymore. I've got to... I've just got to live my life, you know, Sokka?"

"So... what, you're just not gonna wait anymore?"

She furrowed her brow, and shuddered wearily. "When he wakes up, he wakes up," she finally whispered. "I can't control it, and I can't keep sitting there waiting for it. I'll just go insane."

Sokka frowned more deeply, then sighed – he figured she probably was just speaking from exhaustion and frustration, and that she'd be right back in that room when the morning came. But for now, he simply squeezed her hand and said, "All right, Katara. Whatever you say."

"Uncle Sokka," Tenzin asked, as Sokka led Katara into her own room and helped her into bed. "I don't have to go to sleep too, do I?"

"Yeah, you should get some sleep, squirt. It's still a little too early for you to be up."

"But I'm not sleepy. I wanna wait for Daddy."

Sokka sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes. "Look, buddy – just two hours of sleep, all right? That's not that long. If you promise to do that, then I'll come get you when the time's up and we'll wait for your dad to wake up together. All right?"

"But what if he wakes up before then?"

"He's been sleeping for almost four days, pal. I really doubt he's gonna wake up within the next two hours."

* * *

><p>Only ten minutes after Sokka had led Katara and Tenzin off to their own beds, Zuko wandered by Aang's room, fingering the necklace in his pocket anxiously.<p>

It was time, he told himself. Time to give the necklace back to Katara. Time to face Aang. He simply couldn't put it off any longer.

He reached for the doorknob –

And as he did, he heard a strange noise from inside. A kind of groaning; a hoarse, muffled voice muttering some incomprehensible words. A voice that was very distinctly not Katara's, or Sokka's, or anyone else's, except...

In a burst of panic, Zuko turned and ran far away from that room, far away from the healing house. He burst out the front door and rushed into the dark lane outside, deciding that perhaps now wasn't the time to face Aang, after all. Perhaps now was the time to take a long, refreshing, head-clearing walk through the city instead.

* * *

><p><em>Ha, that was a lot of stuff for one day! Phew.<em>

_So, basically, these two chapters were the "everything that has to happen before Aang wakes up" chapters... Ha. And part of why I struggled a bit with them is that I just really wanted to skip ahead to the part where Aang wakes up, but there was a lot to take care of first... But now that I've got all that stuff out of the way, whoo-hoo! _:D

_Anyway, yeah, so sorry again ending it there, though. Next chapter really __will__ be coming very soon, I promise. _^_^


	43. Awakening

_Yay! FINALLY! I have to admit, I think I've been anticipating this part just as much, if not more, than everyone else! (yes, __more than YOU__, believe it or not! lol) _^_^

_So anyway, this chapter is fairly short (compared to other recent chapters, at least) - it's really more of a teaser/appeasement for all of you, haha. I was originally going to publish it all together with everything that's going to be in the next chapter, but things were coming together a little bit slower than I anticipated, and of course I can't stand posting anything unless I feel it's the best it could be, which unfortunately takes some time. On the other hand, though, I can't stand making you guys wait - especially for something like this. So, rather than trying to rush through and shove it all out in a big clumsy pile, I'm putting up this part by itself first, and the rest as soon as I can. Don't worry, though - there's a lot more to come. And, again, this whole story is still quite far from over! _^_^

_Also, to the Reviewer who goes simply by the name of __**S**__: I'm so glad that you decided to leave me such a lovely message! It's so wonderful to hear from people, and I really love getting lengthy and gushy reviews, especially written in the wee hours of the night. And you're very, very welcome for everything! Avatar is also deeply embedded in my soul, too... which is probably obvious from this fanfic, heh. And I just wanted to thank you because your beautiful review just filled my heart with gladness!... And no, I'm not famous yet. But I'm working on it, haha. I'll let you know when it happens. _^_^

_Thanks to all the rest of you too, as usual! I always look so forward to reading reviews from everyone. __**To die upon a kiss,**__ I've been calling them Yontoph, hehe, but that works too... Or Tophten. Or Top-ten? Ha! Also, when I first read that comment I thought you meant like the actual ship in the story should be named Tonten. You know, the one that blew up, ha._ ^_^

_Also, random remark: Sokka's just the best. Really. Have I ever mentioned that I'm a little bit in love with Sokka? *sigh* (Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm also a little bit in love with Aang and Zuko... and I might have a slight girl-crush on Toph too. *shrug* What can ya do?) _:D

Mai: "You do know that none of us are real, right?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "What!" 0_0<br>Mai: "Sokka, Aang, Zuko, Toph... Me. Everyone else. We're all animated characters. You _were_ aware of that, right?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well... well – of course I'm aware! But – how are <em>you <em>aware?"  
>Mai: "Oh, I'm aware of pretty much everything. It's a dreary existence, really. But, y'know... I deal with it."<br>Rain&Roses: "... All right, then, I think we'd better get on with the chapter before you break the fourth wall beyond repair, Mai."

* * *

><p><strong>AWAKENING<strong>

––––––––––––––_Aang–––––_

–––––––––––––––––––––– It's a shame you're no longer a child_––_  
>You've come to me with a new face<em>–––––<em>

_Aang, please––––––__  
><em>_–––––––––––You don't know how long I've been waiting–––_

It's been a long time_–––_  
><em>––––––––––––––––––––––– <em>My old friend, the Avatar.

–– _Stop thinking so much –_

–––––––– _Aang, did you even think about this?__  
><em>_–– Stop thinking so much –__  
><em>_––––––––––––– I don't think you thought about this at all–––––––––––––––––––––––– thinking, Well, we love each other, we're happy –_

––– _It's not fair! He's mine! –– They can't_ ––_–––––––––––_

We'll meet again

_You just can't see... You're so convinced that it's our Destiny that you just can't see it won't work!_

––––

_Just come back ––_

_I was going to say yes –––––– please – Aang –––– Come back ––Come back, Aang–– I was going to – going to say––––_

Katara.

The first strange image in his mind was of Katara, weeping over his lifeless body. He heard his own voice, far away, saying half-conscious words –

"Don't cry, Katara."

Then the sound of his own rasping whisper launched him suddenly back to consciousness, and Aang's eyes creaked heavily open in the darkness.

He was lying in a strange bed, in a room he'd never seen before. It was so dark that it took several minutes for his eyes to adjust enough to see the far wall of the room. There was a small window somewhere on the right, hovering in the darkness, and through it he caught a glimpse of a pale night sky – the moon's blurry outline obscured by wisps of clouds and falling snow. A thick, groaning silence lay over everything like a shroud, heavy as the mountain of fur blankets that were piled on top of him.

The voices and images of his tangled dreams quickly vanished into an unremembered vapor. For a few minutes, Aang only lay still and stared, and felt very strange. His head throbbed, and a cold itchy sensation crawled faintly beneath the surface of his face, and ghostly, writhing black wisps darted in the corners of his eyes, just where he couldn't quite see them.

But those strange feelings soon began to subside, for the most part; a sense of normalcy began to return. And as he looked around the room, the one small, feeble scrap of a thought his mind finally managed to muster was simply:

_... What?_

Soon more specific variations of the question came: What was this place? What had happened? What was going on?

What was the last thing he remembered? – A storm. There was a terrible storm, and the thrashing ocean all around. He'd been with Appa, flying through the storm. They'd landed somewhere: a cave –

He frowned to himself. A cave in the middle of the ocean? Was that right? That didn't make sense. Had he dreamed that? No – he was _sure_ that had really happened.

Then what? Something awful had happened to him, but he couldn't remember what it was at the moment. All he knew was that there was a lingering image in his mind of a scarred, scaly face with hollow eyes, a dark voice ringing in his skull, and the ghostly feeling of being ripped out of his own skin.

What had happened? Where was he now? How had he gotten here? Where was Appa? What was going on?

He tried to sit up, to get out of bed and go searching for some answers – but the instant that he began to move, he stopped, falling back with an agonized groan. Every single one of his bones screamed in fiercely aching protest, and that dull, vibrating pain instantly thudded through his head again, ten times magnified – and those eerie black phantoms flitted in his eyes again. He couldn't move. He felt as if he'd been punched in the face, then taken apart and put back together lopsided, after having each of his limbs forcefully stretched to about three feet longer than usual.

His heart suddenly faltered, stumbled, tripping over the pain – and for a horrible second he feared it was just going to stop beating altogether. But it kept going, still bravely hanging in there. Working with all its might to shove blood out to his uncomfortably distant-feeling extremities.

"Uh... hello?" he croaked faintly, and his voice cracked. Dry and dusty – like he hadn't used it in a while. "Is there...? I think I... I think I need – help? Anyone? Anywhere? Hello?"

He thought he heard footsteps outside of the door, but no one came into the room, and no one replied to his hoarse call. So Aang just lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long while. Just breathing, carefully. Afraid that he might break if he attempted to move again.

Well.

Since he was apparently going to be lying here for a little while, he might as well spend his time trying to think. Maybe if he thought enough, he'd remember what had happened to him and how he'd got here. Wherever _here _was.

So he lay there, not moving, just struggling very hard to think. But for several minutes, the only thing he could remember clearly was that he'd found a cave in the middle of the ocean, in a storm, and something horrible had been inside of it. Nothing more than that. Whatever the horrible thing was, he had no idea. He remembered the feeling of acute terror – he remembered thinking he was going to die. But he couldn't remember what had actually happened.

Where had he been going again? Why had he been out in the middle of the ocean, in a storm? He'd left the South Pole, on his way to Omashu. Right. He'd left the South Pole just this morning...

Or _was _it just this morning? How long had he been lying on this bed? One day? Two? Hopefully not more than that.

And _where _was this bed, anyway? Was he back in the South Pole? That would explain the fur blankets, and the snow. But other than that, this place didn't feel very South Pole-ish. It didn't have that familiar smallness, the rustic coziness he was so used to. It felt foreign and impersonal and... _sprawling_, somehow, despite the fact that his room wasn't all that large.

Well, anyway, what was he thinking? – Right, so, he'd left the South Pole at... some point recently. It had been early in the morning when he left. He'd said good-bye to everyone. He'd said good-bye to Katara. She hadn't said good-bye back –

Katara didn't love him anymore.

That. He remembered that. He _definitely _remembered that.

An intensely sharp and very physical pain suddenly stabbed through him as the memory of Katara's rejection came back to him, making his heart falter again. Just to add to all his other current pains. Because that was exactly what he needed right now: more _pain_.

No – he couldn't think about Katara right now. He just couldn't deal with that. He couldn't, not with everything else. He had to figure out what had happened to him first, and where he was. That was the top priority. Once those mysteries had been cleared up, then he'd be free to focus on being thoroughly and miserably heartbroken, without any distractions. But, first things first.

Maybe if he just waited a little longer, someone would actually come into the room and he could politely demand an explanation.

But no one entered the room for several minutes, and the only sound in this entire foreign, impersonal, sprawling world was utter silence.

So finally – bracing himself – Aang at last gathered the strength to try to move again. The unbearable ache resonated once more through his bones, but he pushed himself through the pain until he'd at last managed to get himself up into a sitting position. There, he breathed, recovering for a moment. His heart was pounding, frenzied with the exertion, and his skull felt like it was going to explode. But he finally mustered the will to move his legs out of the bed and onto the floor.

As soon as he put the slightest bit of weight on his feet, lightning shot up his shins. Aang bit his lip and pulled back sharply, fighting the urge to scream.

It took him about eight attempts before he could successfully put all his weight on his legs without collapsing or crying out in pain. But slowly, slowly, he began to acclimate, and at last he succeeded in actually standing up. He swayed and leaned heavily against the wall for a long while, regrouping for the daunting task of taking the first few steps toward the door.

The more he moved, the more it became slightly easier to deal with the horrible feeling that his bones were nothing but brittle twigs about to snap. His limbs were stiff and awkward as he walked, but he did gradually start to gain some meager comfort with his own body again, and began to step a little faster. At last he reached for the door and pulled it open, and stumbled out into a long, empty corridor.

_"Hello?"_ he called again, forcing his rusty voice to be a little louder this time. "Is anyone here?"

There seemed to be no other living beings in the entire place. A violent shudder rippled through him without warning: partly because he was cold, and partly because this place felt like some kind of eerie ghost house. He did get the sense that it was currently either very late at night, or very early in the morning, which probably explained why it all seemed so deserted and dormant – but it was eerie, nevertheless. Everything was perfectly silent, as well as dark. The only light came from one end of the hallway on his left – a skewed square of pale moonlight, flooding in from some open doorway or window around the corner. Aang reeled against the wall and began staggering clumsily and painfully in that direction.

Something about the building – the arch of the walls, the designs on the floor – was familiar. An architectural style he recognized. But, he'd been almost everywhere in the world: there were a lot of possibilities, and his brain wasn't exactly functioning well enough yet to successfully connect the architecture with a specific location. At least, not while he was so focused on merely walking without collapsing.

Suddenly, he thought that he heard a sound of pattering footsteps, coming from just around the corner ahead of him. A person's shadow split the square of moonlight on the wall.

"Hey, I need help," he cried shakily. "I, uh... I think I'm a little lost...?"

The next moment, a small figure barreled around the corner, and just stood there, gaping at him. It was a little boy, probably about five or six, with black hair and round blue eyes.

The boy stared at him, mouth hanging open.

Aang stared back, surprised and confused, and – suddenly, strangely self-conscious. Something about the boy deeply unsettled him. Why was he just... _staring _like that? Was there something wrong? He felt himself turning red – embarrassed, though he didn't know why – and he furrowed his brow at the odd little boy in bewilderment.

"Um, hi?" Aang said.

The boy turned and raced off the way he'd come.

Aang could only stand there, blinking. Thoroughly dumbfounded.

"All right, then," he murmured, frowning. _Strange kid_, he thought.

For some reason, he still felt slightly troubled by uneasy self-consciousness, even though the boy was gone. Who was he? Why had he just _stared _at him like that, and run away, without even saying anything? That wasn't normal, right? Was there something wrong with the boy? Was there something wrong with himself? –

Suddenly, a bizarre and disturbing idea jumped into his head unwittingly. _What if I'm dead?!_ he thought with alarm. _Maybe I'm just a spirit, wandering around, all transparent and everything! That would definitely explain the staring... and the running away..._

But Aang shook his head – no, that was stupid. He couldn't be dead. Surely if he was just a spirit, he wouldn't be feeling so many aches and pains. At least, he hoped not.

Still...

Drawing in a slow, rather uncomfortable breath – his lungs felt as if they needed some exercise – he lifted his right hand and spun a quick little cyclone out of the air. Yep, he could still Airbend. So, not dead.

He exhaled. Well, that was a relief, at least.

Suddenly, he heard whispers, coming from somewhere far away down the hall, around the corner where the boy had run off. Gathering his strength again, Aang once more began to push himself forward in that direction, determined to make some sense of all this. But before he'd managed to make his feet take three steps, he heard a different set of footsteps coming from down the hall: loud, booted feet, running toward him with rapid urgency. Aang stopped, suddenly a little nervous. Once again the light on the wall ahead of him was broken by a person's shadow: this one was tall. A man's shadow.

As this new figure raced towards him, Aang instinctively stumbled back and raised his hands into a wary defensive position – even though he was in no shape to fight anyone at all at the moment. Even that strange little blue-eyed boy could have probably knocked him over without much effort.

All at once, the tall stranger exploded around the corner ahead of him, immediately whirling around, blue eyes alight.

"Sokka?" Aang cried in surprise, squinting at him. "What are – ?"

Without a word, Sokka lunged toward him and cut him off with a bone-crushing hug.

Aang instantly flinched and tensed up, groaning in pain. But Sokka seemed as if he intended to never let him out of that hug. _Ever_.

"Sokka!" Aang gasped with great difficulty. "_Oohf, _stop! – I think – you're – _breaking_ me – !"

"Oh!" Sokka suddenly exclaimed, releasing him at once. Aang's head spun with pain and he almost toppled over, but Sokka caught him firmly by the shoulders and held him up straight, beaming at him ridiculously. His voice quavered a bit. "Sorry about that, Aang – _Aang!_ – It's just – it's _you!_ – You're all standing up and everything! – with your face – _talking_ and stuff! – And you sound just like you did – and it's weird! And – Sorry... I just..."

He trailed off, sniffling, and his lower lip quivered. Aang gaped at him in dizzy bewilderment, and saw that there were tears welling in his eyes. The vague idea that Sokka looked... _different_, somehow, drifted faintly through Aang's mind; but it was hard to tell in the dim light, and he couldn't quite process it at the moment anyway.

"Um, are... are you okay, Sokka?" Aang stammered, baffled. "You're acting kind of... not normal."

"Yeah!" Sokka choked, wiping away a little tear. "Yeah, I'm great! How are you, Aang? – _Aang! _– Ha! I just asked you how you are, Aang! Just like old times, right?"

Aang glanced sidelong at him, feeling rather uncomfortable. "I... guess?"

Behind Sokka, the strange blue-eyed boy had appeared again, standing at a cautious distance and gazing at Aang with a nervous, eager, almost awed expression – as if Aang were some kind of fascinating carnival exhibit, or a life-changingly great birthday present. Aang gaped past Sokka's shoulder at the boy, unable to stop himself, and he could feel himself beginning to blush again at the boy's discomfiting stare. But Sokka, following Aang's gaze, quickly turned to the boy and waved his hand at him.

"Tenzin!" Sokka cried happily. "What are you doing? Don't just stand there! Come here."

Tenzin stepped over slowly, cautiously, hiding shyly behind Sokka's legs, though his wide-eyed stare never wavered from Aang's face. It was his eyes, Aang suddenly realized: there was something really disconcerting about those eyes. They were... they were very blue. And familiar, somehow. Aang was sure that he must have met the boy somewhere before – but who was he? _Tenzin? _He couldn't recall the name from anywhere, though it too sounded familiar, like something he'd heard once in a dream. How did the boy know Sokka? Was Aang supposed to know who he was? He felt a little ashamed that he couldn't place him.

But Sokka put a hand on the boy's shoulder and brought him forward.

"Tenzin, this is – " he said softly, choking a bit, "This is Aang. Aang, Tenzin."

Oh. So they _hadn't _met before. Well, that only made Aang feel even more hopelessly lost and awkward, somehow. But nevertheless, after a brief hesitation, he smiled amiably at Tenzin and held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Tenzin," he said quietly, hoping to show the boy that he was perfectly normal and friendly – hoping the boy would stop staring at him like he was a ghost.

But Tenzin didn't shake his hand. Instead, he just continued staring in bashful awe for a few seconds, then shifted his disconcerting eyes from Aang's face to Aang's outstretched hand, tilting his head a bit. Then, after a moment, he reached out his own little fingers. But instead of shaking hands, he merely touched Aang's arrow tattoo – then took hold of Aang's hand, turned it over in his two little hands, and examined it solemnly. And Aang blushed uncomfortably again, unsure what to do; he was starting to feel more and more like an exotic novelty than a person.

"Your voice sounds kinda different than I thought," Tenzin proclaimed suddenly, releasing Aang's hand and looking back up at him with a smile.

Aang only blinked at him for a second, not entirely sure how to respond to that. "Oh," he stammered. "Um. Sorry?"

"And also you're tall," the boy went on, still smiling. "You look taller when you're standing up. But not really_, really _tall. Just regular tall."

Aang's mouth was dangling slightly open, helplessly. He glanced at Sokka, hoping for some kind of assistance. But Sokka was merely standing by and observing the two of them, grinning brightly, like he was watching the greatest play he'd ever seen in his life.

"I drew a picture of you!" Tenzin announced eagerly. "You wanna see?"

"Uh," Aang scratched his head, thoroughly flummoxed, and shrugged. "Um, sure, I guess?"

Suddenly Sokka's grin faltered a bit, and he cleared his throat, placing his hand on Tenzin's shoulder once again. "Ahem – no, not right now, pal. I, uh – I need to talk to Avatar Aang about some important grown-up stuff first. You need to head back to bed anyway."

"What?" Tenzin cried, frowning indignantly at Sokka. "Are you crazy? I can't go to bed _now!_"

"Sure you can," Sokka said quickly, herding the boy along down the corridor. "Just try your hardest. I believe in you."

"But I'm _not ti-i-ired __– _!"

"But you promised, remember? Two hours, that's all."

"But I wanna talk to – !"

"Yeah, I know, I know you do," Sokka hastily cut Tenzin off. "I get it, pal, and I'm really sorry. But, listen, this is _very_ important..."

Aang watched, still hopelessly baffled, as Sokka knelt down to the little boy's level and whispered something to him, too quietly for Aang to hear. The only word he managed to make out was, "surprise," and when Sokka was done whispering, he finished off with, "... really soon, and we'll hang out all day. I promise. All right?" Then Tenzin glanced back at Aang, blue eyes shining, and – taking Aang by surprise once more – he suddenly stepped forward and bowed very slowly and solemnly, dropping his head almost to his knees.

And then he turned, and scuttled quickly out of sight around the corner.

Aang just gaped for a little while after he'd gone, still blushing furiously and feeling extremely awkward, wondering why the boy unnerved him so much.

"Well," Aang murmured, scratching his head. "He's... an interesting little guy, isn't he?"

"Heh. Yeah..." Sokka said slowly, looking at Aang with a strange, uneasy expression, and chuckling awkwardly. "So, um. Listen, Aang –"

Just at that moment, Tenzin's head popped around the corner again.

"Hey, Uncle Sokka," he hissed loudly, "D'you want me to tell Momma?"

Sokka sighed with exasperation. _"_I want you to _sleep,_ sir! Now!" he commanded, pointing an authoritative finger at him. "Don't worry about your mom. Just let me handle this, all right?"

"Oh. Okay. Sorry!" Tenzin whispered. "G'night!" Then he stared at Aang a moment longer, still beaming, and sped away.

"_Ah_," Aang muttered, as if he'd just solved a difficult puzzle in his head. Then he furrowed his brow. "Huh. I didn't know Suki had any siblings."

Sokka gawked at him as if he'd just sprouted a third arm from his forehead. "What? She doesn't. What are you talking about?"

Aang gawked back at him as if he'd just pulled a boomerang out of his left nostril. "Wait – but... Um. So does he call you 'Uncle Sokka' just for fun, then? Or... what? I'm – I'm confused?"

Sokka paused, mouth ajar, eyes shifting. "Oh – ha! That. _Right."_ With a cautious grin, he patted Aang gingerly on the shoulder and began to lead him off in the opposite direction down the corridor. "Yeah. Listen, Aang – we've got some stuff to talk about. A _lot _of stuff. You're... you're probably gonna want to be sitting down."

* * *

><p><em>All right, so hopefully the next chapter will be coming in a day or two <span>(hopefully)<span> - but I never can tell how long it will take. Plus, school is starting up this week and I have a lot of work that I didn't do over Winter Break to catch up on. Yay! But I'll try to get it out as fast as I can, promise. _^_^


	44. Catching Up

**EDIT: Hey, I don't know how many of you guys will actually see this, but I wanted to post some news about the next update! It's down at the very bottom of the chapter.**

_400+ reviews! *faints happily*_

_So, anyway, this chapter and the one before were definitely some of the most fun chapters I've written in a while. Especially this one. Tee-hee. _:D

_Though this one was also __extremely__ complicated. It's not easy having so many characters to deal with all at once in the middle of such a tricky situation. And even still, a lot of them unfortunately ended up very shoved aside in this chapter. But they'll all get their time. _^_^

Mai: "Hm... shoving characters aside..."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "You're gonna make another snarky comment about how I killed you off earlier, aren't you?"<br>Mai: *_surprised face_* "No! Why would you just assume that?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh... I dunno." :  
>Mai: "Though, now that you mention it - "<br>Rain&Roses: "Okay, moving on!"

_P.S. I'm sorry, **Sayriina**... I'm a terrible person, lol. _XD

_Also, my comment on the previous chapter about how Sokka's the best also applies to this chapter, big time. _^_^

* * *

><p><strong>CATCHING UP<strong>

Despite his Uncle Sokka's stern commandment, Tenzin did not go to sleep. He hung back behind the wall, hidden from sight around the corner, and watched as Sokka put his hand on Aang's shoulder and led him off in the other direction. Tenzin watched, nearly erupting with excitement – a kind of nervous excitement, so real and significant and intense that it almost made him feel sick, but in a good way. He'd never felt this kind of excitement about anything, ever. He knew that he never would feel this excited about anything else ever again. Nothing else in his life could possibly be as big as this.

Tenzin watched them walk away: the mundane familiar shape of Uncle Sokka, alongside the thrilling brand-newness of his father – Avatar Aang – with his long limbs and big hands and blue arrows. But he walked and talked so normal. His voice was not quite like the one Tenzin had always imagined saying the hero's lines in his mother's stories, nor was it quite like the voice he'd imagined would come out of the man who'd slept on and on in that room. It was different – but it was good. Better, in fact, than what Tenzin had imagined. It felt more right, after all.

Tenzin studied the diminishing shape of his father and told himself that this was the same person who'd battled pirates, subdued volcanoes, fought sea monsters, saved the world. Tenzin studied the distant figure and told himself that this was his father – _his_. Tenzin imagined this familiar stranger, soaring through the air on his glider, effortless as a kite; he imagined his eyes and arrows glowing with a bright white light. He imagined him riding down a snowy hill on the back of a penguin, alongside Momma – and then Tenzin imagined himself there too, sledding with them, beating them both to the bottom of the hill. He imagined himself also soaring through the sky, and also battling volcanoes and pirates, right beside Avatar Aang. And Tenzin quivered – longing to race after his father and tell him all the stories he knew, and show him all the pictures he'd drawn, and demonstrate all the Airbending tricks he'd learned, and teach him to play all the games he liked. To be the person at the center of Aang's entire day – of _all _his days, but especially today. To be as important to Aang as Aang was to him.

But he had to be patient. Uncle Sokka had explained it all to him – he just had to wait a little while. Because Avatar Aang didn't know yet – he didn't know who Tenzin was. But he would soon – and wouldn't he be so amazed and happy then! Right now, it was a surprise. Uncle Sokka was going to get Avatar Aang ready, and then when the time was right – at just the most effective, dramatic moment – he'd come get Tenzin and all would be revealed. And then they'd all spend the rest of the day doing nothing but fun things with one another. And Momma would be there, too; and Zuko and Ursa, of course; and Aunt Suki and Auntie Toph and Uncle Iroh and all of them. They'd all join in, and it would be – _beautiful. _Just the way it was supposed to be.

Tenzin just had to be patient. He had to be good and do what Uncle Sokka said; if he did that, it would all work out right.

Tenzin believed that; but he still didn't go to sleep. He just _couldn't_. After he'd watched Sokka and Aang stroll together down the hall and out of sight around a corner at the other end, Tenzin still didn't go to sleep. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

He wished he could go wake up his mother and tell her – and yet, strangely, he did also feel a grown-up kind of thrill at knowing about it before she found out.

Then again, had Uncle Sokka told him _not _to wake her up, specifically? Or had he just said to go to sleep?

No! – He should tell _Ursa_!

The idea burst suddenly into his mind like a wild spasm. Uncle Sokka hadn't told him not to tell Ursa. He should tell her, now, and then maybe go to bed after that. It couldn't hurt anything. Uncle Sokka would never know. And anyway, he wanted – no, _needed_ – to tell _someone_, to share his excitement before it made him explode. And Ursa was the perfect choice, he thought. She'd surely also appreciate the thrill of finding out something important before most of the grown-ups did.

Waiting until Sokka and Aang's voices had faded far away, he darted off down the hall towards the door that led into the room where all of Zuko's family had been sleeping the last couple of nights – Zuko and Ursa, Uncle Iroh and Zuko's mom. Tenzin reached up for the handle and pushed the door open cautiously – he hoped that Zuko wasn't awake: he might stop him, send him right back to bed before Tenzin even had a chance to speak to Ursa. But then again, Tenzin hoped that Zuko _was _awake after all – wouldn't he be surprised to learn that Avatar Aang had finally woken up!

But when Tenzin entered the room, he found Zuko mysteriously absent – to his great relief or disappointment. And Uncle Iroh and Grandma Ursa were both sleeping soundly: an uproarious snore, and a soft breathing murmur – even in the dark, it wasn't hard to guess which belonged to which. How any of them could sleep at a time like this, Tenzin couldn't fathom! But he ran straight to Ursa, who lay sleeping in an awkward position – face in her pillow, left leg sprawling over the edge of the bed – beside Uncle Iroh. Tenzin nudged her anxiously in the shoulder, until she jolted awake and blinked blankly at him a few times. Then, in barely repressed whispers:

"Ursa! Get up! Guess what? Guess what? He's – !"

"_Awake?!_"

A bouncing, squeaking nod.

"Where? _Where?_" – immediately scrambling out of bed and into the hall outside.

Following her in a whirlwind: "I dunno – somewhere with Uncle Sokka."

"Did you see him?"

"Well, _yeah!_"

"Did he talk?"

"Uh-huh. He said 'hi' and stuff – he sounded different than you'd think."

"What'd you mean?"

A shrug. "I dunno. You'll see."

"Is he nice? Was he funny or weird or anything?"

"Yeah, he was really nice! But he didn't do anything weird or funny. Mostly he was just normal. I think he was also sort of confused – "

"We should tell Aunt Tara!"

"You think? I really want to, but Uncle Sokka said – "

"Oh, we _have _to! Right away! She's been waiting all this time, and it'll be so romantic! I bet they'll get married _today!_"

And Tenzin gaped at her then, eyes wide, again rippling with that glorious, nervous happiness that almost made him blissfully sick. "Today?" he gasped. "Can that happen? Can you do it that fast?"

"Of course! Why not? What would stop them?"

He paused, and shrugged, beaming. "I dunno?"

"Come on! Let's go tell her!" She took off toward Katara's room at once.

Tenzin needed no more motivation than that. The joy of his mother and father finally being together again – possibly getting married _today!_ – overshadowed anything Uncle Sokka had said. And, for Tenzin, Ursa's authority automatically vetoed all others' anyway (except for that of his mother herself, of course). So he took off right on Ursa's heels, and, despite her headstart, he managed to just beat her to the door.

Had Katara been inside the room at that moment, she would have woken long before the children actually entered, thanks to the racket they both made wrestling over which of them would get the door open first. At last, Tenzin also won that contest, only by abruptly releasing a burst of air that blew Ursa backwards. She stumbled noisily across the corridor and crashed into the closed door on the opposite wall, and Tenzin immediately threw open the door to his mother's room, laughing in loud triumph.

"That's cheating!" Ursa bellowed. "You _always_ use Airbending to w – !"

"Hey! She's not here!" Tenzin cried in alarm.

Suddenly, the door behind Ursa (the one she'd just bashed into a moment before) flew open, causing the children to jump and squeal in alarm, and an older healing woman popped her head out of the room and shushed them irritably.

They shushed, both blushing in shame, and she returned to her room with a grouchy slam of the door. Then – quietly – the children turned their attention to the empty bedroom, searching every corner of it for a clue, and – whispering – they wondered where Katara had disappeared to.

"What if Azula got her?" Tenzin gasped in horror.

"Psh! Azula can't get anyone!" Ursa hissed disdainfully, waving her hand. "Don't be so silly. She's probably just off with my dad."

"Well, where's Zuko?"

"I dunno. Somewhere. But I bet Aunt Tara's there – and she has no idea!"

* * *

><p>Ursa's guess was nearly correct. For, some minutes before that, around the time when Zuko had been standing outside of Aang's door trying unsuccessfully to build up the nerve to face him, Tenzin had slipped out of the bed he shared with Katara and vanished into the halls of the healing house, leaving Katara sleeping alone. She'd awoken a moment later, despite her weariness, disturbed by Tenzin's absence.<p>

And (assuming that Tenzin was with Sokka, back in Aang's room) she had thus lain awake and still for a while, deep in the lonely silence, listening to the deafening lack of sound, listening to the heaviness and the darkness and the by-herselfness. And, though she was completely exhausted, now that she was finally away from Aang and in her own bed, with nothing to listen to or think about other than the silence, she couldn't sleep. All she could do was keep listening, listening – imagining that maybe she heard things – imagining that Aang would...

Maybe she should go back. Sure, she'd already made up her mind that she wouldn't hover over him constantly – that she'd just take the minutes as they came and let him wake up whenever he woke up –

But what if he did now? Right now? What if – ?

Maybe she should go back –

_No!_ she scolded herself. _You've already done enough. You need a break, or something. You need to rest_..._ He'll wake up when he wakes up. _

It shouldn't have been this maddening, she'd thought. She hadn't been waiting that long, after all – only a few days. But after _five years_ – after traveling all the way to the North Pole – fighting the Face-Stealer – dragging him back to the mortal world, only to nearly lose him again... After all that, a few days of extra waiting, of being entirely unable to guess when he might wake up... it was enough to make her insane. And who knew how much longer it would be? She'd initially expected him to wake up in only an hour or two. But one hour had turned to ten, and then she'd thought, "Surely tomorrow?" But tomorrow had turned into yesterday, and then she'd thought, "Surely just one more morning? One more afternoon? One more night?" – again and again. But nothing. And now she couldn't guess anymore: she didn't dare to, because she was always wrong._  
><em>

But, she thought, maybe – surely, by the end of the week, right...?

And yet, would a week only turn into a month? two months? half a year?... longer?

_This is ridiculous. You can't live like this, never sleeping, forgetting to eat, doing nothing but waiting! You can't punish yourself like this. You're driving yourself crazy._

She wanted to believe it would be any moment now, but she couldn't bear to sustain that constant anticipation anymore – not when it was crushed by disappointment every single moment.

But – but – maybe she should just check one more time now...? Just for a second? Just a quick check? What harm could it do?

Without another thought, Katara rose instantly out of bed to do so – but then scolded herself in frustration. No, if she didn't get a grip and resist it now, then she'd just be right back to where she was. And she knew, she _knew_, that she'd only get her hopes up for nothing – that she'd peek into that room and he'd be asleep still, just the same as before, and then she'd be crushed again, and yet another little piece of her spirit would be chipped away.

And so, while Zuko was fleeing the healing house through the front door, to collect himself on a walk through the city, Katara was fortifying herself with stubborn determination: she was going to _force _herself to take a break for once, just for a little while, whether she liked it or not – she'd done enough to deserve it, after all; and (she thought bitterly) nothing was going to happen while she was gone anyway. She grabbed her parka from where it hung by the door and took off, heading out of the healing house through the back door, to also take a walk through the brisk early morning – forcing herself not to walk past Aang's door on her way out. Because if she did, she knew she wouldn't be able _not_ to linger.

Thus, several minutes later, when Tenzin and Ursa went to inform her that something, in fact, had happened, she was nowhere to be found. She was far away, walking alone in the dark cold of the city, distracting herself with the freedom of the fresh open air – with no idea that Zuko was out in the city as well, also walking alone, but having fled for different reasons – and with no idea that Aang was _not_ still asleep in his room, exactly where she'd left him.

* * *

><p>"I got my face stolen. I – I got... my... <em>face stolen?<em>"

Sokka nodded reluctantly, carefully studying Aang's expressions and trying to assess how well he was taking the news. He'd led Aang through the halls of the healing house, into a round quiet chamber at the south end of the second floor, with several small benches arranged around a gently trickling fountain, and tall windows that overlooked the lower neighborhoods of the city, facing the sea. The dark sky was cloudy and the city was still washed with moonlight, though everything was gradually growing lighter, gathering strength for the sunrise.

Aang was currently sitting on one of the benches, staring out the windows, his back to the fountain. Sokka had sat him down there, revealing answers to his questions in small, calculated doses – so far, all Aang knew was that they were in the North Pole, and he'd recently recovered from losing his face.

Judging by the Airbender's distant, wide-eyed stare and rapid breathing, Aang was taking the news about exactly the way Sokka had expected he might: _badly_.

"Wait – _wait_," Aang gasped, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No. No, I can't have. I couldn't have got my face stolen. That's impossible."

"'Fraid not," Sokka replied.

"But – Koh – _no_, he couldn't have. He couldn't have really stolen my face!"

Sokka sighed, and massaged his temples wearily. This wasn't going well. And they hadn't even gotten to some of the more shocking news yet. Just as Sokka had feared, this was going to take some very delicate handling – but perhaps even more delicate than he'd anticipated. The last thing he wanted was for Aang to have some kind of breakdown. He needed tact. Strategy. Good thing Sokka had always been the Strategy Guy. Aang was lucky that Sokka had been the first one he ran into – well, other than Tenzin, but luckily that situation was under control. Sokka couldn't imagine what would have happened if Aang had run into, say, Yonten first – or even Toph, whose unchecked bluntness would likely have given the poor guy multiple heart-attacks within minutes.

"Aang," Sokka insisted, sitting down on the bench beside him, struggling for a balance between forceful and gentle. "Listen very carefully: I'm telling you the truth. Koh the Face-Stealer stole your face."

Aang breathed and breathed, and his voice suddenly rose to a shrill, frantic roar. "But then – but then – _how do I have a face?!_"

"Sh!" Sokka gestured for him to quiet down, wary of waking the other patients and healers in the building. Then he answered softly, "Katara got it back."

"What?" Aang exclaimed, only barely forcing himself to be quieter than before. "No! _No! _That can't happen, Sokka! It _can't!_ If Koh stole my face, then I'm really sure that I wouldn't have a face! That's the end! You can't steal faces back from Koh!"

"But you _did _get your face stolen," Sokka sighed, giving him a serious, earnest look. "It _happened_. Koh took it, and Katara got it back."

Aang hesitated, sucking in shallow, harried breaths, and gaped at Sokka in astonishment. "But how?"

"Well, uh," Sokka rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm – I'm not completely clear on that, actually. But I'm pretty sure she, um... she kinda... killed Koh. Or something to that effect."

"WHAT?" Aang exploded incredulously, then struggled to bring his voice down again when Sokka gave him another stern gesture not to be so loud. "You can't _kill _Koh!"

"Well, apparently Katara can," Sokka said. "'Cause she got your face back."

Aang just gawked at him for a few moments, then turned his eyes away to gawk at nothing at all, too stunned to respond or even fully comprehend what Sokka was telling him.

"Are you...?" Sokka began hesitantly. "Are you... okay?"

Aang still didn't answer. He only exhaled very deliberately, compelling his rapid breaths to enter and exit at a slower, more reasonable pace.

"Sokka," he finally spoke again, his voice dry and brittle. He closed his eyes, already afraid of what he was asking. "Exactly... how long... how long ago was it, when Koh stole my face?"

Now Sokka inhaled slowly, afraid to answer.

Aang turned his eyes back to Sokka, probing him frantically. "Sokka! Answer me! How long was I gone?"

Carefully, Sokka watched him, and opened his mouth, and sighed. "Are you sure you're ready? You were gone for a... a pretty long t – "

"_How long_, Sokka?" Aang demanded, growing more panicked by the second. "What? Five, six months? Seven?... Eight?"

Sokka grimaced, and couldn't bring himself to answer.

"A year?" Aang's voice cracked.

Sokka made an uneasy squeaking sound.

"Not _two _years?"

"Five." The word at last tripped out in a tentative whisper. "Five years."

Aang stared blankly.

"Give or take a... a few months," Sokka added after a moment, hoping desperately that Aang wasn't going to lose it.

Aang stared blankly.

"But, hey!" Sokka said, grinning feebly in an attempt to cushion the blow. "Look on the bright side! I mean... at least it wasn't a hundred years this time. Right? Heh?"

Aang looked as if his mind had gone elsewhere – fled, unable to handle this revelation. Sokka watched him for a moment, his own face falling in slight panic, and finally shook him gently by the shoulders.

"Aang!" he said urgently. "Hey! Snap out of it!" He snapped his fingers in front of the Airbender's blank face.

Aang blinked dizzily, and came reluctantly back to reality. "Uh," he said.

"You okay?"

"I'm... yeah, I – I mean, no... I mean... I don't know." He looked at Sokka helplessly. "Am I?"

"Here." Sokka stood up quickly. "I'm gonna run back real quick and get you a... a glass of water, or something. And maybe a blanket. And a pillow to lean on, or – or hug – or scream into – or whatever you need to do. Okay? And I'll come back and explain the whole story. Sound good?"

"Uh," Aang said flatly.

"Right." Sokka sighed, scrutinizing him cautiously for a moment. "Stay there. _Stay_."

Aang stayed, lacking the will to move. And Sokka hastily darted out of the room, vanishing through the doorway they'd come through earlier; Aang just stayed, listening to his booted footsteps fade away down the hall.

_Five years_.

Gone. Just gone. Five years of his life, lost forever. How old did that make him now? Twenty... one? Right. He was twenty-one now, though only a few minutes ago he'd woken up believing that he was still just sixteen. All those in-between years – seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty – he'd just skipped right over those, in the blink of an eye, in a single night of troubled sleep.

Those could have been great years, too. He'd been really looking forward to them. Now they were gone.

Five years. Five years of the world passing him by, leaving him behind. Five years of everyone else living their lives without him –

What might have happened in all that time? What was Sokka going to tell him next? The idea of it filled him with suffocating dread. He almost thought of fleeing, making his escape before Sokka had the chance to come back and dump it all on him. He thought of retreating, fleeing from this building, fleeing from the city altogether, vanishing into the wild frozen tundra, hiding – hiding, removing himself from everything, so that he'd never have to know what he'd missed.

But he couldn't do that. He didn't really want to, anyway. It was only a reflex compulsion, a screaming urge of self-preservation that he knew would really only make everything worse in the long run. No, he couldn't flee. He had to stay here and take it. He had to know – he had to know what he'd missed.

Yet even still, with a painful groan, Aang covered his face with his hands and tried to disappear, hoping that Sokka took a good long while to come back.

How had this happened? How could this have happened to him?

What was Sokka going to tell him? And where was everyone else, now? What could have happened in all that time he was gone? – It was such a long time! Had the world assumed that he'd vanished again, abandoned everything, just like before? Had people thought that he'd disappeared on purpose, neglecting his duties as the Avatar, _again_? At least, like Sokka said, five years wasn't as bad as a hundred – but still! What disasters might have gone on in his absence, disasters he should have been around to prevent?

What about Appa? – poor Appa, all on his own this whole time! What about everyone else, all his friends? Suppose someone close to him had died while he was gone! What if _several _people had? – What if – ? What if – ?

So much could happen in five years. People could die. People could get married. People could have kids –

A sudden chill washed over him. People could have kids.

The bright blue eyes of the little boy – Tenzin – suddenly flooded his mind.

_Uncle Sokka_. He'd said "Uncle Sokka." But Suki didn't have any siblings. And Tenzin's eyes were so blue, so familiar –

Aang's line of thought frantically halted itself there, for the sake of avoiding a total mental implosion. No, no, no – it couldn't be. It _couldn't _be. She wouldn't... would she?

But after what had happened, the last time he saw her...

Vivid, fragmented images of her flooded through his mind: the look on her face, when they'd been up on Appa's back – her face freezing, falling; her eyes dawning with the realization that she didn't really want what he wanted, that maybe _he_ wasn't really what she wanted after all; her hair flying as she leaped from Appa's back to the ground, as she ran away in almost-terror; her eyes refusing to look at him afterward, and her mouth clamping shut when he'd said good-bye –

Her voice, frustrated: _I don't know – I don't know, Aang!_

... And then he hadn't come back for five years.

His heart raced; the pain of it strangled him, gripped his stomach, made him feel a little nauseous.

_Five years – five years – _The sheer, cruel volume of the phrase, of the number, left him paralyzed. It was such a long time. So much could happen... He was already guessing what had. But it was too hard, too agonizing, too impossible to think about anymore. So Aang's mind merely surrendered to numbness for a little while, too weary and terrified to keep thinking, to think about anything at all.

* * *

><p>With a blanket and a pillow in one arm, and a glass of water in his other hand, Sokka decided to make a quick detour to Katara's room before returning to Aang. She needed to know what was going on. Sokka figured she was probably already going to kill him once she discovered that he hadn't come to get her the <em>second <em>that Aang had woken up. But Sokka, again, was fearful of overloading Aang with too much at once and sending him into a kind of shock – and he didn't trust Katara to think clearly at this point, not around Aang. Not after everything she'd been through. The last thing Sokka wanted was for Aang to just shut down, to shut out Katara (and everyone else) as a way of coping with it all, and unintentionally crush all her perilously built-up hopes.

No – Aang had to be eased into it gently.

But now, at least, Sokka felt fairly confident that he'd managed to get the basics of the situation through to Aang. That was a good start. Sure, Aang hadn't taken it very well – but at least he'd taken it. It ought to be safe enough to tell Katara now, Sokka thought. And anyway, he wouldn't feel quite right explaining everything else without Katara there – especially not about Tenzin. That should be Katara's task.

The trick, of course, would be to keep _her _from overreacting, and accidentally scaring the poor Airbender right back into a coma. She'd need to be calm about it – rational, subdued. She, too, would have to be eased into it gently.

He began to walk very slowly as he drew nearer to her door, carefully rehearsing exactly how it ought to be done:

_Katara_ – he'd say, with a hand on her shoulder. Nice and calm, like it's nothing at all really; like maybe he just has a quick question or something.

Then, before she's fully awake (before she's too awake to guess why he might be there), he'd say...

_First, don't freak out._

No, no – Sokka shook his head, pausing in the middle of the hallway with a frown. No, that was no good. That would only make her freak out immediately._  
><em>

Perhaps the best tactic would be the blunt route. Get it over with, quick and casual:

_So, Aang's awake now_, by the way_. Just thought you should know. Come see us when you can, okay?_

Sokka cringed. The only ending he could envision to that scenario was Katara beating him for not waking her up sooner, then trampling him on her way out the door to go tackle Aang and give him a nice heart-attack.

No, he'd just... maybe he could just slip it nonchalantly into a sentence? _Hey Katara, sorry to bother you, but Aang and I wanted to know if you'd like one fish or two for breakfast?__  
><em>

Sokka sighed. She was going to freak out, no matter what. He'd just have to... restrain her, or something, until she calmed down.

But when he peered into Katara's room, all he found inside were two very awake children, in the middle of re-enacting Aang's battle with Fire Lord Ozai (Ursa was playing the Fire Lord, naturally) – both leaping back and forth across the beds, with small spurts of air and fire, altogether wreaking havoc.

"_Prepare to DIE, puny Airben – !_ Oh, hey, Uncle Sokka!" Ursa cried, grinning from her perch at the end of Katara's bed.

"What are you two doing?" Sokka exclaimed, frowning sternly.

"Is it time yet, Uncle Sokka?" Tenzin asked eagerly, leaping off of the other bed in a fluttery whirlwind. "Can I go see Daddy again now? Can Ursa come too?"

But Sokka was too distracted to mind Tenzin's questions. "_Where is your mom?!"_ he cried in frustrated disbelief.

Tenzin shrugged, glancing at Ursa, who also shrugged.

Sokka scowled, "Dammit, Katara!" – turning away and marching out of the room in a storm of aggravation, muttering to himself, "Of all the times to disappear, you would have to pick _right now _to – !" Suddenly, he backpedaled, glaring into the bedroom at the two dumbfounded children. "Don't you two ever repeat that language."

"What language?" Tenzin asked, in genuine bewilderment.

"Exactly." Sokka nodded at him. "Also – I thought you were gonna go to sleep, Tenzin?"

Tenzin just stared at him for a moment, shifting his feet bashfully.

Sokka sighed. "Okay, well... I guess it's no use trying to make either of you sleep at this point. The sun's practically up anyway. But – if you're gonna play games like that, then take it outside please, where you won't destroy anything. And try to keep the bending to a minimum, okay?... And don't be too loud. People are still sleeping around here."

"Yes, sir!" said both of them at once, and Ursa immediately took hold of Tenzin's hand, dragging him out of the room and down the hallway.

With another sigh, Sokka turned and made his way back to the place where he'd left Aang, wondering where in the world Katara might have run off to, and why in the world she'd chosen _now,_ of all times, to disappear.

As soon as he returned to the fountain chamber, with the blanket, pillow and water in his arms and an uneasy, frustrated expression on face, he took one look at Aang and impulsively shivered, shook his head, and blinked a few times.

"What?" Aang asked dully.

"It's just – weird," Sokka remarked, shaking his head yet again. "Sorry. Not you – I mean, well... No, yeah. You. It's weird, seeing you there. Sorry. It's just been a really long time. You look different, too. I mean, not _bad!_ Don't worry. Just... different." He hesitated. "You – you need to shave."

Aang ran his hand across the top of his head, and felt the rough fuzz of new hair growing there. "I guess I've been out for a little while, huh?"

"A few days, yeah," Sokka nodded. "Um... your face, too."

Aang frowned, and touched his face. His cheeks were covered with itchy stubble as well.

"I'm growing a beard!" he exclaimed in alarm, beginning to hyperventilate again. "_I'm growing a beard! _I couldn't grow a beard before!"

Sokka attempted to chuckle lightheartedly, and failed. "Hey – don't freak out! It happens to all of us. And, you know, you might look good with a beard, Aang. This could be an improvement!"

But Aang wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy touching his own face and having another minor panic attack, as if he didn't even know who he was anymore – as if he'd been transplanted into someone else's body.

Sokka shifted his feet awkwardly as he watched him, trying to think of some way to calm him down again, or at least change the subject. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. But this was definitely worrisome: if Aang couldn't handle facial hair, then he was going to have a lot of trouble with some of the other things Sokka still had to tell him.

_Tact. Strategy... Right._

While Aang started to calm himself down a bit, Sokka scrutinized him carefully – once again cursing Katara silently in his head for disappearing just at the worst possible moment. He handed Aang the glass of water first – which Aang guzzled down desperately – and then the blanket and the pillow – both of which Aang proceeded to squeeze the stuffing out of, as if they were his only anchor to reality.

"So," Sokka began, _tactfully_. "Did you – did you want to ask me any questions before I just start talking?"

Aang cringed with anticipation, then stared at Sokka with a futile expression. He looked as if he had a million questions, but didn't much want to ask any of them. But, finally – settling on a harmless and insignificant one – he murmured, "What happened to your nose?"

Sokka paused, taken aback by that, and then chuckled softly, touching his nose. The healers had patched it up and straightened it out days ago, of course – but even still it was a bit bruised and swollen. He didn't think it was that noticeable; but apparently it was.

"Uh," he faltered. "You broke it."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You had a pretty rough time on the way back here. And you've got a powerful elbow, by the way."

"Oh." Aang turned his eyes back to the windows, staring blankly out at the city and looking ashamed. "Sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Sokka waved his hand dismissively. "It's definitely the least dramatic thing that's been happening around here lately."

"So, um," Aang murmured, dropping his eyes to the floor and shifting his bare feet across its smooth surface. "I guess... Katara's around here too, right?"

Sokka sat down beside him again, leaning back and carefully watching Aang out of the corner of his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, she's around... uh, _somewhere_. I'm not exactly sure where at the moment." He scratched his head awkwardly. "But – she'll be back soon. She was really looking forward to seeing you again."

Aang released a soft, incredulous grunting noise. "Yeah, I'm sure," he mumbled into the pillow, almost too quietly for Sokka to hear.

Surprised by that muffled remark, Sokka glanced at him, stirring with anxious sympathy. Aang's despondency at the mention of Katara was almost a tangible atmosphere hovering around him, heavy and consuming and bleak. It was a strange mood for Aang, Sokka thought, since he remembered Aang always being so naturally cheerful. But, of course, Sokka understood where Aang's dejection came from – if only Aang _knew_. If only Aang could have seen Katara during the past few days, during the past few years, without him.

"No, _really_, Aang," Sokka said hastily. "She's _really _been looking forward to it. You might not believe me. But you – I mean, you have no idea."

"Hrm." Aang murmured, clearly unconvinced.

Sokka felt a little frustrated again. He figured Aang probably wouldn't believe a word he said, no matter how persuasively he tried to explain how Katara had been pining for him. No, Aang wouldn't believe him: he'd probably assume that Sokka just didn't understand, that Sokka just didn't know what had happened before. Sokka thought perhaps he ought to just confess to Aang that actually, yes, he knew _all _about it: the marriage proposal, the rejection – to hopefully prove to Aang that he understood exactly how he felt now, but _really,_ it was different. Katara was different, and he had nothing to worry about anymore, and it was all going to be all right now... But Sokka hesitated, afraid that Aang might just be humiliated, rather than reassured, to find out that Sokka knew about his failed proposal. And, anyway, Aang probably _still _wouldn't believe it – not without the actual proof of Katara herself.

Where _was_ she, anyway?

"So, who else is here?" Aang asked after a moment, looking at Sokka with only half-hearted interest. "Suki, too?"

Sokka nodded. "Oh, yeah. Pretty much everyone, actually. Suki, Toph, Uncle, Yon – ah – " Sokka managed to catch himself with a fake yawn. "Yeah, um. Zuko, and..."

"Mai?"

"Oh." Sokka's face fell. Mai had been gone for so long, he'd forgotten that Aang wasn't around when it had happened. "No – Mai... Mai died, a while back. Around the time you disappeared, actually."

Aang looked stricken – Sokka could tell he'd just been waiting, dreading, to hear that someone in the group had died, and now, there it was.

"What happened?" Aang asked.

Sokka scratched his head again, grimacing. He didn't feel like now was quite the time to bring Azula into this already thorny balancing act – so he decided to evade the details for the time being. "Well," he said slowly. "It's kind of a long story. But – "

"Is Zuko okay?"

Sokka grimaced again. _Depends_, he almost said. But after a second of hesitation, he just nodded. "Yeah, he's – he's made it through all right. Zuko, you know – he's pretty good at that."

"Yeah," Aang nodded, once again staring at the floor, his brow knotted with sorrow. He opened his mouth, as if he meant to ask another question, but then stopped.

"But he's had a rough time," Sokka added, carefully, when Aang didn't speak again. "The past few years have been kind of... weird, for all of us. We've – well, I don't want to get too into the details just yet, but we've – we've been having some problems with Azula."

Aang glanced at him, startled and concerned.

"But it's taken care of, for now," Sokka said hastily, hoping not to trouble Aang too much about it yet – he'd need some time to deal with everything else before he was ready to deal with Azula. "You'll hear all about it, don't worry. For now, though – I mean, I just want you to know that... that we all went through a lot to get you back here, Aang. Especially Katara. It's been hard – it's been really hard on all of us, these past few years with you gone. Things have just been a mess. _Especially _Katara. She's really..." He sighed sadly, thinking back on Katara during the past few years: her irreparable brokenness, her gradual disappearance into herself. "I mean, after you left, she just – she just fell apart, for a while. There was nothing any of us could do for her, you know. Not even me. Honestly, before all this stuff – I mean, before we all came up here – none of us had even really seen each other much for a long time. I hadn't seen Katara in – I don't know how long – months, at least. No one had. She just started hiding herself away more and more; especially after she went to live with Zuko, no one saw her. Not even dad or Gran Gran. We were all really worried – "

"_What?_" Aang cried suddenly. "Wait! – _what did you say?_"

Sokka frowned at him, startled by his outburst. "I said we..." Then, suddenly, he realized what he'd said, and his eyes grew wide in horror. "Nothing!"

"Sokka! You said Katara's been living with – ?"

"No one! Alone! I mean – no, with Tenzin! Wait, no, I mean – "

Aang was beginning to panic again. "Sokka, tell me the truth!"

"I – I am," Sokka faltered, cringing. "She... she _has _been living with Tenzin – "

"Where?"

Sokka sighed reluctantly. "In the... Fire Nation..."

"_Where?_"

"In the... the big house that... customarily has been considered the residential location of the governing familial unit – "

"In the palace! With Zuko! She's with Zuko?"

"Uh, well – I guess you could say that Zuko's been in generally the same vicinity as her, but – "

Aang leaped to his feet frantically.

Sokka grabbed his arm. "Aang, no! Stop, it's not – "

"And Tenzin's her son, and Zuko's his father, right? _Right?_"

Sokka gaped at him for a second, startled. "What? _No!_ – Aang, listen – !"

But Aang had already taken off running, blundering out of that room and back through the halls of the healing house, leaving a storm in his wake.

"Criminy!" Sokka sputtered in frustration, immediately running after him.

* * *

><p>Racing through the halls, Aang caught a glimpse of pale early morning sunlight and lurched dizzily towards it, emerging onto a small railed patio, overlooking a courtyard with a fountain. The frigid North Pole air flooded his lungs and cleared his mind for a moment – but just a moment, and then all his thoughts quickly knotted themselves once more into a hopeless, throbbing mess. He fell against the nearest column, and the cold burned his bare skin, and he just breathed.<p>

It was too much – all at once – too much to handle.

If he'd been a boy again, he would have retreated, dealt with the pain by distracting himself somehow. That's what he'd done the last time. He'd dealt with this sort of thing before: he'd dealt with _worse _before. He'd once felt the loss of his people, his entire culture, everyone he'd ever cared about – only days after running away from home, or what seemed like days to him. The Air Temple had been full of life and laughter when he'd left it; he'd seen it ruined and deserted only the very next week. He'd played Pai Sho with Gyatso the morning that he ran away, both of them laughing about the lemur that had eaten old Tashi's fruit pie the day before. And a few mornings later, Aang had found himself stumbling across Gyatso's ancient bones, where they lay rotting amid the ruins of his home.

He had retreated then – evaded – run away. It was what he did; or used to do. He'd coped with the pain back then by not thinking about it; by focusing his mind on fun, stupid things instead. Riding Elephant Koi, abusing the Omashu delivery system – anything he would have done with his old friends, back when things were normal. Anything he would have been doing even if nothing had changed at all. _Especially _if nothing had changed at all. Because that was the whole point: to pretend nothing had changed.

But he couldn't do that now. He was older now, and this was different. Even back then, he hadn't really been able to do it, not for long – not with reminders everywhere of how much it all _had _changed, and with the responsibility of saving the world placed very abruptly upon his young shoulders. He'd needed those distractions – he would have gone insane otherwise, or lost himself – but nevertheless, they'd always been fragile, flimsy defenses. What had saved him back then wasn't the distractions, but the fact that he'd found an anchor. Someone who held his world together, someone who'd never leave him to face it all alone...

Aang clenched his fists, and felt himself choke bitterly.

This was different. One hundred years had been too enormous, too much time to fully comprehend all at once, especially at age twelve. And, strangely, that had made it a bit easier.

Five years felt real, immediate – instantly devastating.

One hundred years was something he'd been able to handle, because the first person to wake him up after all that time was the one that his broken, baffled world had instantly begun to revolve around.

Five years. _This _– this should be nothing, compared to a hundred. He _should _be able to deal with it – it ought to be simple, in theory. But he wasn't sure he could now – it was too much. No, he couldn't – he just _couldn't _– because this time he was alone. Truly, utterly alone. Rejected. Abandoned. Tumbling through space without his center of gravity.

All he could do was breathe. It felt like the sky and the ground were trying to switch places on him.

Suddenly, somewhere down below his feet, below the patio on which he stood, he heard a door slide open and small, pounding footsteps, followed by young voices – the first of which stabbed him like a thousand fiery needles at once.

"I got you, Ursa!" Tenzin cried.

_Ursa_. Zuko and Mai's daughter. She'd only been a toddler last time he'd seen her. How old was she now? Seven? The unfathomable number hit him like an icy gust. Aang glanced over the railing, and saw a skinny, dark-haired little girl emerge into the courtyard below, followed closely by the boy.

The boy. Tenzin.

Aang breathed, breathed – mentally walking himself through the process. Air in, air out, repeat, don't stop.

"Did not!" Ursa protested.

"Did too!"

"You're a cheater!"

"Am not!"

Unseen by the children, Aang let his eyes follow the two little figures – especially Tenzin – as they chased each other around the snowy courtyard. His tattooed hands flexed spasmodically, quivering fiercely, crunching themselves into tighter fists, and his fingernails dug into his palms. Merely breathing was a painful effort.

Those blue eyes. Of course they were Katara's eyes. He should have seen it immediately, he should have guessed right away. But there wasn't much else of her in him...

Dark hair. Light skin.

Like Zuko.

The more he stared at the little boy, the more wretched and queasy he felt.

"_There! _Got you!" Tenzin shouted, smacking Ursa's arm. His little voice reverberated through the courtyard. "Now you've got to catch me!" He darted away from Ursa and took off running.

Ursa turned and punched, launching a small fireball at the ground a few steps ahead of him. Tenzin stopped abruptly, losing his balance and waving his arms. Ursa took advantage of the situation to give him a good whack on the shoulder.

"Ha! Got _you!_" she declared triumphantly, skittering quickly away to avoid having the blow returned.

"That's not fair!" Tenzin protested, stomping his foot. "No bending! That's the rules!"

Ursa rolled her eyes and sighed. "_Fine!_" And she came running again after Tenzin, who scurried eagerly away, screaming in delight.

Aang watched, and thought he was never going to be able to move from that spot. The world passed before his eyes, cold and far away, and the tempest of confusion and anguish in him rendered all his muscles paralyzed.

She'd just – _discarded _him. Like an old, worn out blanket.

As if some switch had been flipped inside of her, she'd just decided, without reason, in that single crushing instant, that she simply didn't want him anymore. She was through with him. And now here was Tenzin – definitely about five years old.

_How long after I disappeared? _he thought miserably. _How long did it take her?_

He could only imagine how, almost... _relieved _she must have been, when he vanished. Not happy – no, Katara would never be happy about that, no matter what. She was too good for that. She would have grieved for him, at first. But – but – Aang could still only picture her rising up anew, breathing deeply in the freedom of her new singleness. She must have felt a burden lifted from her – she must have seen it as a fresh start. She must have gone to Zuko very soon afterwards. And here was Tenzin.

Aang clenched his teeth and reeled against the balcony railing, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Tenzin and Ursa laughed down below. He thought he might throw up.

How could she do this to him?

Katara – caring, gentle, brave, powerful, beautiful Katara. The best friend he'd ever had, or ever would have, in his entire life. Everything about her, everything she was, battered him in a sudden onslaught, a relentless list blundering through his mind. The one who'd saved him so many times, who had always been there, with him – _always_. Never turned her back on those who needed her. Couldn't tell a joke to save her life, but could still stop his heart completely whenever she felt like it. Her bright smile, her blue eyes. The way she laughed, beaming in the sunlight. Her hair, her hands, her inexhaustible hope. Her never-ending ability to make even his darkest days worth living. Optimism that bordered on stubbornness. A voice like a cool, healing stream. The only one who'd always reminded him of who he was, who always took his hand and brought him back to the ground when no one else would dare try to reach him. Always knew exactly what to say when he was feeling lost. Knew him better than he knew himself.

_Perfect_. She was perfect.

The tears were coming now. He couldn't stop them.

She was perfect. And she'd thrown him out. She didn't want him. He was junk.

What had he done wrong? Why wasn't he good enough?

How could she do this to him?

Aang bit his lip and fought, fought fiercely, but his eyes burned insistently. He was being ripped to shreds from the inside out. The image of the children playing down below blurred for a moment, and he scrubbed the tears away feebly, with a violent shudder.

"_I think he's out there!_" said a familiar voice in the corridor somewhere behind him.

Then he heard Sokka run out onto the patio behind him, panting. But Aang didn't turn and look at him. He couldn't move.

"Aang!" Sokka gasped, bent over as he tried to catch his breath. "Listen to me, Tenzin's – "

But even as Sokka began his sentence, the small blue-eyed boy in the courtyard turned towards Ursa (who'd been gaining on him quickly) and waved his arms in a quick, sweeping motion. A sudden gust of air burst from him, stirring up the snow into wild eddies, and blowing little Ursa head over heels. As she fell on her rump with a loud _thud_, Tenzin laughed loudly and fluttered off at the speed of wind, leaving small cyclones in his wake.

"Tenzin! You _cheater!_" Ursa roared angrily, pulling herself to her feet. "You said no bending!"

Sokka saw this, just as Aang did, and darted a panicked glance at Aang, watching in dismay as his eyes instantly grew to the size of teacups.

"Oh, boy," Sokka squeaked, gulping.

"D – Did he just...?" Aang rasped faintly, pointing a shaking finger at Tenzin. Suddenly his eyes rolled back into his head, and his legs gave way beneath him.

Sokka quickly reacted, catching the unconscious Airbender before his head hit the ground.

Then Toph emerged onto the patio, just in time to feel Aang collapse.

"What did you _do _to him, Sokka?" she cried.

"Uh..." Sokka's eyes shifted sheepishly. "Well, I may have – sort of – accidentally made him think that Tenzin was Zuko's son..."

Toph threw her hands in the air in disbelief. "Really, Sokka? _Really?_"

"But, er," Sokka said, with a feeble attempt at a grin, "I think he just figured it out."

"Great," Toph sighed, coming to give Sokka a hand with hoisting Aang up off the ground. "Well, we'd better lay him down somewhere and try to revive him. Seriously, though, I think this situation might have been handled a _little _bit better. Don't you, Mr. Strategist?"

"Hey! I was trying to be tactful!" Sokka protested defensively, as they carried Aang back inside. "You know – break it to him gently?"

"Well. So much for that," Toph huffed, blowing at her bangs.

Just then, as they were lugging Aang's unconscious body down the hall to set him down on a small couch nearby, Yonten strolled around the corner, in the middle of a yawn. He instantly jumped in surprise, staring speechlessly at the sight.

"Oh, he's – ! When – ? What happened to him?" he exclaimed in bewilderment.

Toph snickered lightly. "He just found out he's a father."

Yonten just gaped at them for a few seconds, as they hoisted Aang onto the couch. "Oh... I see he took that well."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, shaking her head. "Couldn't have gone better, really."

"We should splash him with some cold water or something," Sokka sighed, staring at Aang and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'll go get some," Yonten volunteered, already beginning to walk off.

But Toph quickly caught him by the arm, cringing a bit. "Nah – you know what, maybe you ought to lay low for a little while, Pipsqueak," she said. "Aang still thinks all the Airbenders are gone. I'm not sure he's ready for _another _mind-blowing surprise just yet."

* * *

><p>Zuko had been roaming the streets by himself for quite a while, shuffling by the canals in the pale darkness before morning, pondering his own absurd, pathetic cowardice and weakness, when he was astonished (and somewhat dismayed) to suddenly find that he was very literally being followed by one of his troubles: the <em>last <em>person he'd expected to run into at that moment, considering what he'd fled from back at the healing house. She was now trotting across a bridge to catch up to him, hastily pulling her parka tighter around herself.

"Zuko!" Katara called. "Hey, wait up."

His first instinct was to run away. But he resisted, instead turning around to face her as she approached. His second instinct was to demand what in the world she thought she was doing out here, when Aang was back there – but he didn't do that either. Her long hair was flying freely in the wind, disorderly and elegant – she looked painfully beautiful, and Zuko felt rather irritated about it, and couldn't bring himself to speak for a moment.

"Mind if I walk with you?" she asked, in a tone that meant she intended to whether he liked it or not.

"Why are you here?" he sputtered – he _was_ genuinely curious, but the question came out a little more severely than he meant.

She looked taken aback for a moment, and then scowled. "Okay, I'll walk by myself, then. Just thought I'd ask. No need to get all uptight about it – "

"No, no – I mean, really," he shook his head hastily, catching her by the arm as she attempted to shove huffily past him. "_Why_ are you out here? Where's Tenzin? And why aren't you with Aang?"

She sighed wearily. "Well, Tenzin's with Sokka. I'm pretty sure that both of them are still waiting for Aang right now. But I just – I needed a break." She shook her head and stared at the snowy ground for a moment. "I had to stop holding my breath, just for a little while. You know? I needed to get out of that house for a few minutes..."

"Uh, Katara – "

"I know, I should have probably taken a break a long time ago."

"No, that's – "

"It's just so hard. Waiting and waiting, with – with nothing. Hour after hour of nothing, and he's right there, but so far away, and... I mean – I know he's only been back a few days. But after waiting five years to get him back, just a few days feels like a lifetime. I thought maybe if I could get some sleep it would make me feel better. But I couldn't even do that, not while I was in the same building as him. I just kept on imagining that maybe I heard things, or that he'd wake up while I wasn't there and... I just had to get out of that place for a little while. I felt like I was losing my mind. I just couldn't wait anymore."

Zuko suddenly burst out laughing – though it wasn't a happy laugh, not at all. But it was so rare for him to laugh openly like that, so unexpectedly, even if it was a rather wry and dismal laugh, that Katara just stared at him in shock for a moment. Then she scowled again, ferociously.

"What are you laughing about?" she cried.

"Oh _man_, Katara," Zuko groaned, still chuckling bitterly and massaging his eyelids in exasperation.

"What?" she demanded defensively. "What, you think it's silly of me to act this way?"

"No, I didn't say th – "

"Then what? This doesn't have to do with you being jealous of Aang, does it?"

"What?" he growled, suddenly no longer laughing at all. "I'm _not _jealous of Aang."

"Then why have you been acting so strange? You haven't spoken more than three words to me for days, or Tenzin either. You lied to me about what was going on with Azula and the ship. And you _still _won't go anywhere near Aang – "

"Katara – "

"Look, whatever's going on, it has to stop," she said sternly. "We need to talk about this. We need to deal with it, now. Before it becomes a real problem. We can't just keep ignoring it and – "

"Go back to the healing house, Katara," he said abruptly, in a soft, serious voice, and turned away from her to continue his troubled, solitary walk through the city without her.

"Hold on!" she cried, furious. "Don't just walk away! You think you can just ignore this forever, Zuko? What about when Aang wakes up?"

Zuko released another of those strange, bitter chuckles. "Go _back _to the healing house, Katara."

"Don't tell me what to do! And stop trying to avoid this!"

"I'm not trying to avoid anythi – "

"Yes, you are! Of course you are!"

"No, I'm not."

"You're not? _Really? _Then why are you out here?"

His eyes shifted, and he sighed irritably. "All right, well – yeah, okay. I guess I am. But this isn't about me right now. You just _really _need to go back to the healing house. Now. Go back to Aang's room. That's where you should be."

She furrowed her brow at him, now more bewildered than angry. "Why?" she asked. "Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me all of the sudden? What are you up to?"

Zuko sighed in exasperation. He thought perhaps he ought to just tell her that Aang was... well, at least, that it was pretty likely that Aang was awake now. But he didn't want to reveal that he knew. Because then Katara would realize that he'd run away from the healing house for the specific purpose of avoiding Aang. He feared it might make her more upset at him, make her even more convinced that he was holding some kind of grudge against Aang thanks to his unresolved feelings for her. But, mostly, Zuko was just too embarrassed to explain – he was ashamed that he'd run away from Aang, instead of facing him and being honest and making some effort to earn back Aang's trust and friendship. It was absurd, he knew. But he'd hoped to avoid revealing his shameful cowardice to anyone else – especially not to her.

"Look, I'm not trying to get rid of you, Katara," he said carefully – the words tasted oddly dishonest when he said them, though he didn't understand why. "I just – I _really _think you need to go back now."

"Why?"

"I – I don't know. I have a hunch."

"You have a _hunch_?"

He hesitated, flushing faintly at her incredulous stare. "Uh... yeah."

She crossed her arms and studied him for a moment. "Okay, Zuko," she said at last, with a defeated sigh – as if she didn't believe him, but thought that there was no use in trying to argue with him further. "I'll go back, then. _But –_ " suddenly her eyes lit up, rather cunningly – "only if you promise to come back with me, and sit with me in Aang's room for a little while. And we're going to talk about all this stuff that we haven't been talking about. Deal?"

Zuko cringed. "Katara – "

She just held her hand out to him wordlessly, looking him sternly in the eye, challenging him to prove he wasn't simply jealous or afraid.

In his pocket, his fingers brushed against her necklace – Aang's necklace.

And, he imagined, somewhere afar off in this pale hour of the early morning, Aang was up – walking around, talking – no doubt wondering where Katara was. No doubt wondering why Zuko was also gone – wondering why neither of them were there to greet him upon his awakening. Wondering, undoubtedly, what exactly the two of them had been doing in his absence these past five years.

Perhaps already guessing.

Perhaps already beginning to wonder what, exactly, they were off doing right now.

Katara – she had to get back there _now_. And if the only way to make her go back was for him to go, too – for him to stop being such a coward and return to face his shame – well, then. Perhaps it was for the better, after all.

"Fine," he muttered sharply, brushing past her without touching her outstretched hand. "Let's go, then. Come on."

* * *

><p>"<em>Aang! Hey, wake up! Snap out of it, Twinkle Toes!"<em>

He was wrenched back to consciousness by a harsh splash of icy water in the face. The first person he saw was Toph, leaning over him with an empty cup in her hand. She looked different – older, her facial structure more defined, less rounded than he remembered. But her mouth instantly broke into her characteristic snide grin – that, at least, hadn't changed a bit.

"There you are!" she said cheerfully. "Welcome back."

"Toph – ?" he gasped.

"Nice to see you awake," she said, grinning a bit wider. "Sorry about the water. You can blame Sokka for that one, since he kinda did a horrible job of explaining things to you – "

"Look, you wouldn't have done any better – !" Sokka cried indignantly, from somewhere in Aang's peripheral vision.

"So I'm guessing we don't have to tell you who Tenzin is, huh?" she went on, ignoring Sokka.

Aang immediately felt dizzy again. Everything started to tip and spin around him, and his stomach rolled.

"Oo-urgh," he mumbled, rolling over and burying his face in the cushions of the little couch they'd laid him on.

"Hey, hey!" Toph cried, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back up. "You're okay! Just calm down! Don't make me splash you again."

"Tenzin's..." he wheezed, holding his head feebly. "Tenzin's a..."

"An Airbender, yes," Toph finished his sentence quickly.

"But that means he's...?"

"That's right. He's your son." She patted him on the head. "Congratulations!"

"You doing all right there, Aang?" Sokka asked, coming to stand beside Toph and staring down at Aang worriedly. "You look like you're gonna be sick."

Aang just groaned, hiding his face behind his hands, breathing hard. "I... I have a... I have a _son_." The sentence tumbled out of his mouth with great difficulty. He had to force it out. Even after he did, he couldn't believe that the words he spoke were real.

"That's correct," Toph said, trying not to sound too gleeful, but hiding it poorly. "You're a father, Aang."

"But – how did this happen?!"

Sokka instantly coughed, rather gruffly, and glowered at Aang with a severe and confounded expression. But Toph only sniggered, irrepressibly.

"Ahem – " she chortled. "I think you probably know that better than we do, don't you think?"

Aang dropped his hands, gaping at Toph, wide-eyed with dumbfounded anxiety. He stammered, flushing a violent shade of red, looking absolutely helpless. "But – ! But – there was only... I mean! – It was only that one time!" He sputtered the words, unable to stop, as if he'd forgotten how to control his own mouth.

Toph raised her eyebrows, smirking deviously. "Man, and you got an Air-baby on the first try? Well done, Twinkle Toes!"

"Hrmph," Sokka grunted, giving Aang a stern frown. "Yeah. _That_. You and me are gonna have a talk about that at some point, by the way... But, later."

Aang pushed himself slowly upright, slouching and holding his head with another dizzy groan. Toph held his arm and steadied him.

"I... I don't – " He suddenly looked a little queasy again, and covered his mouth.

"Hey, hey," Toph said, patting his shoulder. "You'll be all right. Just calm down."

"Why didn't you – _why didn't you say something?_" Aang cried, looking up at Sokka in bewilderment.

Sokka sighed apologetically. "Well, I was – I was sort of trying to _prevent _this whole passing out in shock scenario..."

"He had good intentions," Toph shrugged. "He's just bad at it, that's all."

"_Again,_" Sokka glared indignantly at her, "you wouldn't have done any better!"

"Wait – so..." Aang shook his head fiercely, as if to rattle all the broken parts inside his skull back into their proper places. "I don't – I don't know what to do... I don't know what to do! What should I do? Am I...?" He paused, as suddenly his mind began to replay his earlier meeting with Tenzin, analyzing all the details of it carefully; and Aang flushed again, embarrassed at his own awkward ignorance, as every gesture and word from the encounter took on new significance. "Tenzin – Tenzin already knows – ? I mean... he knows... who I am?"

"Sure does," Toph said cheerfully. "It's just _you_ who's a little late to the party. Sorry about that, Twinkle Toes. But don't worry – you'll catch up." She chuckled rather mischievously. "And you'd better pull yourself together quick, 'cause I'm pretty sure once Katara finds out you're awake, she's gonna want to get started on another one as soon as p – "

Sokka suddenly coughed at her – loudly and forcefully – shaking his head with a fierce glower.

Toph hesitated awkwardly, unsure what Sokka's problem was. " – A-a-as soon as you're married, of course – ?"

"TOPH!" Sokka choked violently, grabbing her arm and pulling her hastily aside. "A word, please! Real quick. 'Scuse us, Aang."

"What? _What?_" Toph demanded in bewilderment, trotting after him as he led her away, out of earshot of Aang. "I said after they get married! What's the big – ?"

"Toph," Sokka whispered brusquely, "Aang proposed to Katara before he left. And it didn't turn out too well."

Toph's jaw dropped. "He _did?_ Why didn't I – ?" she stammered, then: "Wait – _she said NO?!_"

"Well," Sokka sighed, "I think it was more of a let's-talk-about-this-later kind of thing. But then, obviously, there was no later. So... yeah, you might not want to bring up the issue of _marriage_ around Aang just now."

Toph just blinked for a few moments, her blind eyes gaping, her mouth still dangling open. Then she grunted, and scowled, and huffed rather indignantly, "_Well!..._ That's good to know! Thanks for keeping me in the loop, _Sokka!_"

"Hey, look! I didn't know about it until only about a month ago, okay? Katara never told me."

"You still could have warned me before I said something!"

"I gave you the 'shut-up' cough!"

"Well, yeah, but I thought you were just freaking out about them having se – "

Sokka instantly cut her off by shoving his fingers into his ears and loudly singing, "_LA-LA-LA-LA-LA...!_"

Toph shut her mouth, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot with a small frown, waiting until he stopped. "You done?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Toph scowled again, shaking her head incredulously. "Where _is _Katara, anyway? She's been so antsy the past few days, and now all the sudden she's gone?... _And I can't believe she said no!_ What's wrong with that girl?!"

Sokka frowned sternly at her. "Uh-uh, _no_, Toph! You are _not _going to give her a talking-to."

Toph paused, furrowing her brow, and almost pouted. "But – just a little one?"

"_No! _First of all, it was five years ago, so I'm pretty sure the 'talking-to' time limit has expired. And second, it's none of your business. And third, she's been beating herself up about it ever since – she's punished herself way more than she deserves, and she doesn't need any extra punishment, trust me."

Toph growled in frustration. "But – _but! _Ugh, but – ! What if he doesn't ask her again?"

"Toph – I know you probably don't want to hear this. But really, in this case, all of us just need to mind our own business, and let Aang and Katara work it out for themselves. It's not our job to interfere."

"But they _need _to be together, Sokka!" Toph cried. "You don't understand! They belong together! If Aang and Katara don't live happily ever after, then... then...! I will lose all faith in the goodness of the universe!"

Sokka just blinked at her for a second or two. "Your belief in the goodness of the universe depends on Aang and Katara getting together?"

"Yes!" Toph declared, with a nod of conviction. "Yes, it does! What, is that so weird?"

"Uh, yeah, it is, a little," Sokka admitted. "I just had no idea you were so invested."

"Shut up," she scowled. "I can have a romantic soft-spot too, you know."

Meanwhile Aang – who'd been sitting alone on the little couch and stewing in his own stormy thoughts and emotions, too utterly overthrown to even bother wondering what Sokka and Toph were talking about – suddenly heard a thunderous pattering noise from down the hall, growing steadily louder, and looked up to see two small figures come scurrying around the corner and down the corridor towards them.

Tenzin was ahead of Ursa, but he came to a rapid, breezy halt about halfway down the hall, his blue eyes fixed on Aang, his flushed and beaming face suddenly transforming into a somber, subdued smile.

Aang stared back at him in breathless silence, and his heart came to a rapid, clumsy halt about halfway through a beat – halting in time with Tenzin's feet. His expression froze: a look of wonder, terror, embarrassment, hopefulness, powerlessness.

Ursa stopped several steps behind Tenzin, drawing in her breath and holding it, watching the scene with wide, fascinated eyes. And Sokka and Toph, who'd also sensed the children coming at the same moment that Aang did, both turned, gripped by silence, unable to move – both wondering if they ought to intervene somehow, then both deciding that it would be best to stand back for now and let it all just play out naturally.

Aang held Tenzin's gaze, beginning to slowly flush again – though this time more out of helplessness and foolishness. He couldn't move, couldn't speak: Tenzin paralyzed him. He thought, desperately, he ought to say something – he _really_ ought to say something – but what? _But what?_ What could he possibly say that would be right, to simultaneously express gladness, regret, uncertainty, authority, seriousness, playfulness – all the things he wanted to be, and all the things he actually was, all at the same time? The problem was, he wasn't really sure _who _he was at that moment; and he wasn't sure who Tenzin thought he was. But he knew, still, he ought to say something – this was his son.

_This was his son._

Looking at Tenzin now, knowing the truth, it seemed ridiculous that he could have thought otherwise, even for a second. He wanted Tenzin to know that he was happy he was his son, that he was happy to be Tenzin's father – though his happiness at the moment was also tainted, tainted with overall confusion and unworthiness and sorrow. He looked at Tenzin, and turned the clock mentally backward, imagining the boy at an even younger age, just discovering how to play with the air – imagining him as a toddler just learning to speak – as a baby just learning to walk. What was the first Airbending trick Tenzin had ever learned? What had his first words been? Into whose arms had he taken his first walk?... And Aang's mind pushed further back in time, imagining this blue-eyed boy as a sleeping infant in Katara's arms – imagining Katara's stomach swollen with pregnancy –

All without him.

It had all happened without him there. He should have been there, but he wasn't. And now it was over, gone forever, and he'd missed it.

Aang stared at Tenzin, and couldn't speak, because nothing he might say could possibly replace all those missing years. And Tenzin was watching him, with his mother's eyes, smiling as if Aang were the greatest birthday present he'd ever received in his life.

Though he wanted to say something, Aang only sat there, staring, and choked on a sudden swell of tears – for the second time today, they ambushed him. And, hastily, embarrassed, he reached up and scrubbed them out of his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Tenzin was walking toward him. The boy came and stood just in front of him, gazing at him with a quiet, encouraging smile. Then he reached into his pocket and held out a small little object.

"What's that?" Aang wheezed tremulously, sniffling and taking the little object from his hand.

"It's a present," Tenzin said. "I saved it for you."

Aang looked at the little thing: a sliding penguin carved out of whalebone. He dissolved into a quivering chuckle, and softly whispered, "Thanks..." He meant to add something else, about how it was the best penguin he'd ever seen, or something like that – but he forgot.

"I have to ask you something," Tenzin declared, with a sudden gleam of eager excitement in his eyes.

Aang stared at him, unsure of himself; faltered, "O-okay? What is it?"

"Come closer," Tenzin whispered, gesturing enthusiastically.

Hesitantly, Aang leaned down, and Tenzin – grinning with delight at his own cleverness – snickered, and then asked loudly, "Will you go penguin sledding with me, Daddy?"

Startled, Aang suddenly turned bright red, gawked at Tenzin in astonishment, then burst into baffled, shuddering spurts of laughter. "Uh... yeah, okay," he finally managed to stammer. "You mean right now?"

"No," Tenzin shook his head. "Just sometime."

Aang laughed again, scrubbing away his leftover tears and squeezing Tenzin's little penguin tightly in his fist. "Okay. Sure. That sounds great... Tenzin."

Then Tenzin reached out and took Aang's other hand, beaming. "You wanna go see Appa?"

The feeling of Tenzin's little hand grasping his own – the echoing tremors of Tenzin's voice saying the word "daddy" – the giddy childish memories of penguin sledding – were all already crashing over Aang from one direction, battering his shattered heart, when Tenzin spoke Appa's name. And at once, the thought of his bison – something so dear and familiar and comforting in the midst of all this chaos and uncertainty – and the desire to see Appa immediately, pummeled Aang from the opposite direction. And the two forces, Tenzin and Appa, collided somewhere in the middle, swelling up in his heart into a profound, almost absurd gratefulness to Tenzin for suggesting it. So, overwhelmed by this onslaught of turbulent emotions, Aang very abruptly pulled Tenzin into his shaking arms and held him tightly, fervently gasping, "_Yes!_ Let's go see Appa right now!"

And Toph, grinning uncontrollably, suddenly heard Sokka sniffle beside her and nudged him with her elbow. "Sokka? Are you crying?"

"Shut up!" he grumbled, wiping a little tear out of his eye. "You have your soft spot, and I've got mine, okay?"

* * *

><p>Appa was staying in a wide, snow-filled courtyard at the back of the healing house, enjoying a steady slumber, with Momo curled up on top of his head.<p>

Tenzin burst out the door and into the courtyard first, dragging his father along behind him.

As soon as the two of them set foot in that cold, open space, Appa's great eyes shot open, and he erupted out of his sleep with a deafening roar of pure joy – and Momo, less quick to react, tumbled off of Appa's head with a squeak of surprise. The bison immediately sprang across the courtyard and pummeled Aang, knocking him to the ground and smothering him with his massive bison tongue. Appa's tackle was so sudden that Tenzin had to spring out of the way on a little gust of air, and the others – Sokka, Toph and Ursa – were nearly blown over as they came through the door behind them. But Aang just laughed helplessly on the ground, brimming with contentment, as the bison licked him over and over, and rumbled and nuzzled him and shook the walls of the healing house with his affectionate roars.

Tenzin laughed too, leaping into the air and onto Appa's neck, sprawling out in the bison's thick fur and rubbing Appa's head fondly. And the other three wandered into the courtyard and all began petting Appa as well; Sokka, especially, beamed with satisfaction to see Appa finally reunited with Aang, after the bison's long years of pining and half-living. Aang, too, looked the happiest, and most _himself_, that he'd been since he woke up – all worries and anxieties and heartaches momentarily forgotten under the crushing weight of his dear bison. And after a moment, Momo – desiring a little attention himself – flew over and landed on the ground behind Aang's head, chattering at him eagerly.

Aang (still trapped under Appa and laughing uncontrollably) tilted his head back and grinned at Momo. "Hey, Momo. Glad to see you too!"

It was several minutes before Appa allowed Aang to even stand up again, but at last he began to calm down – assured that Aang really was here, that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, and that Aang was very, _very _aware of how much Appa had missed him when he was gone. While Appa was settling down, and Aang was leaning serenely against his side and gazing at the sight of his son sitting atop his bison's head, suddenly the courtyard door swung open again, and a red-haired figure stepped out, lugging a large bale of hay for Appa's breakfast.

As soon as Suki spotted Aang, however, she dropped the hay with a gasp and darted straight across the courtyard.

"Aang!" she cried, surprising him with a tight hug. "You're here! You're awake!" She pulled back and held him at arm's length, sizing him up with a bright smile. "Wow – you look _good!_"

Aang furrowed his brow, eyes shifting, uncertain what to do with that remark. Meanwhile, Sokka stared at Suki rather indignantly, and Toph snorted, while Ursa and Tenzin both giggled.

Sensing Sokka's stare, Suki frowned at him with a shrug. "What? He does! Especially considering... everything. I mean – sorry, Aang. Not to be weird. It's just you _do _look pretty good. Just, y'know, objectively. You really filled out. You were always so scrawny before... No offense."

Aang scratched his head, blushing. "Uh... thanks, Suki?"

"Way to be awkward, Suki," Toph chuckled.

Sokka just raised an eyebrow at her. "Really, babe? If you're gonna flirt with him, at least do it when I'm not around."

"Do I look like I'm flirting?" Suki protested, scowling. "I'm just being honest! Besides, the poor kid could probably use a compliment about now, don't you think?"

Sokka pondered for a moment. "All right," he said, "I'll forgive you because you just called him a 'poor kid.' But leave the compliments to my sister from now on, okay, Sugar Buns?"

Tenzin, Ursa and Toph all immediately giggled again, while a mortified grimace passed across Suki's face.

"Sokka!" she hissed. "Don't call me that in public! We've talked about this!"

"Yeah," Toph snickered delightedly. "Remind me to make fun of you for that later."

Suki sighed, then frowned again, glancing around the courtyard confusedly. "Where's Katara?"

"We don't know," Sokka growled in frustration. "She apparently decided now was the time to take a really long walk, or something. We haven't been able to find her all morning."

Suki looked at Aang, with anxious concern. "So you haven't seen her at all yet?"

Aang quickly returned to brushing his hands through Appa's fur, evading her gaze, and everyone else's. "No, but..." he murmured, "I mean – it's okay. She can walk as long as she needs to. I wouldn't want to bother her. We'll run into each other eventually."

Suki looked rather taken aback by that, but a careful glance at Sokka cautioned her not to push it; so she didn't.

"Well," she sighed, smiling up at Tenzin. "I see you met Tenzin, though?"

Tenzin beamed, springing off of Appa's head and back down to the ground, as light as a feather. "I was the one who saw him first, Aunt Suki! And he didn't even know who I was!"

Aang flushed a bit, but quietly smiled, petting Appa meditatively.

"So, I guess," Suki said slowly, eyeing Aang with careful curiosity, "I guess they've told you pretty much everything, then?"

"Oh!" Sokka suddenly cried, smacking himself on the head. "I just remembered! There was something else you need to know about, Aang."

Aang's eyes darted at him with something almost like nervous dread. "What now?"

Sokka opened his mouth, then stopped, reconsidered, and held up a finger. "Be right back!" And he suddenly took off, back into the healing house.

Aang watched him go, then glanced around at the others, who all shrugged.

After a few minutes, one of the windows on the second floor flew open, and Sokka stuck his head out, shouting down: "Hey, Toph! Where's your stinkin' boyfriend?!"

Toph frowned, shrugging. "How should I know? I just told him to lay low for a – _HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!_"

"Oh, never mind!" Sokka scoffed, waving his hands at them and vanishing back into the house.

They all stood in silence, waiting for a few minutes, unsure what to say, until Sokka reappeared in the doorway, meandering back through the courtyard toward them and scratching his head with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Well, uh," he said to Aang, "I can't seem to find him right now either, for some reason. But there's another guy around here, somewhere... You've never met him before. He's, um..." He cleared his throat rather nervously. "He's a lot like you... in a lot of ways..."

Aang stared at him curiously.

"In fact," Sokka went on, with a small chuckle, "you guys are practically related... 'Cause you're very similar... Very simil-_air_, one might even say, heh – " He nudged Suki awkwardly with his elbow. "See what I did there?"

"Wow, Sokka," Toph said dryly. "You're _really _bad at this." She shook her head, then turned to Aang. "Twinkle Toes, listen. You're not the last Airbender anymore. And I'm not referring to Tenzin, either – I mean, you never _were _the last Airbender. There's another Airbender named Yonten, who helped us save you. He's here with us now."

Aang gaped at her, stunned, as if he'd just been hit in the face with a bucket of ice water – hit with the _bucket_, that is, not the water. "What?" he gasped.

"He's not the only one either, Aang," Sokka added. "There's a whole group of Airbenders who survived. They've all been living in hiding for the past hundred years or so."

"_What?_" Aang cried, eyes growing wide with excitement. He suddenly burst out laughing. "There are other Airbenders? I'm not the only one? That's – that's _great!_ Why didn't you guys tell me that earlier? I've got to meet him! I can't wait to meet all of them! We'll have so much to talk about and – "

He was already beginning to run off, to go track down Yonten himself, but Sokka put a hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"Not so fast," he said gravely. "See, it's a little... complicated."

Aang furrowed his brow at him. "Why? What do you mean?"

Toph sighed. "You can't meet the other Airbenders, Aang. Yonten, yeah, but not the others."

Crestfallen, Aang took a step back, and glared at them all a little angrily. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "It's other _Airbenders! _They're my people! Why can't I meet them?"

"Well," Sokka said, "for one thing, they live on a Lion Turtle."

Aang just blinked at him, flabbergasted.

"But, not the one you met," Suki added quickly. "A different one."

"Yeah," Sokka said. "So, they'd be a little hard to track down."

"Wow," Aang stammered, shaking his head. "Didn't see that coming." Then he paused for a moment in thought, and his eyes lit up again. "But I've got Appa! That might make it easier, right? And – I mean, even if it took a long time, I think it would be worth – "

"_No_, Aang," Toph interrupted him, with a grim shake of her head. "You can't look for them at all. They don't want to be found. By anyone."

"But I'm the – "

"They don't want to be found by _you_," she finally said, bluntly. "Understand?"

Aang could only stare at all of them, confused and disappointed. "But... why?"

Sokka sighed wearily, grieved to have to give him this news. "Well, according to Yonten, they... um. It's not that they... _hate _you, or anything. That's not it. It's just that... they may sort of, partially, blame you for the whole... genocide. Thing."

Aang stumbled back as if he'd been struck with a violent blow, and reeled against Appa, devastated. "What?"

"I know, I know," Sokka said quickly. "It's not your fault at all! We all know that. Yonten doesn't seem to have any problems with you – I mean, obviously, we couldn't have brought you back if not for him. But – the others – I mean, that's just the way they think. They've been sheltered all this time, you know, so they... I'm really sorry. But you needed to know. Before you found out some harder way."

Aang couldn't speak for a while. He only leaned against Appa's side, processing.

"It's okay!" Tenzin offered anxiously, stepping forward and taking his hand. "Don't be upset."

"Yeah," Little Ursa nodded. "They're just stupid. They don't know what they're talking about."

"Sh," Toph hushed her sternly.

"Are you okay, Aang?" Suki asked carefully.

After a moment, Aang mustered a feeble nod, passing his hand across his face as he collected himself, and breathed deeply. "... Okay," he finally muttered. "Okay, that's all right. Uh – okay." Taking another moment just to breathe, he went on. "Okay, so, just to recap. I got my face stolen. I've been in the Spirit World for five years. Tenzin's my son. Katara's been living with Zuko. And somewhere in the world, there are some other Airbenders who live on a giant Lion Turtle, and they don't want anything to do with me... Great. I think I've got it."

He held his head dizzily. Toph put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not gonna be sick again, are you?"

He shook his head.

"Want a glass of water?" she asked gently. "Or something more potent, maybe?"

"Water, please," he rasped.

"On it!" she declared, and dashed off back into the healing house.

"Are you sure you're doing okay?" Sokka asked him again after a short pause.

Aang nodded again, feebly. "I think I'll make it. I think. But is there... is there any more incredibly shocking news I should know about? Because, honestly, I think I'd rather just have it all at once."

Sokka glanced at Suki. "Well, uh... let's see. Um – well, there's..."

"Azula," Suki said.

"Oh, yeah, that. So, Azula got out of prison around the time you disappeared. Did I tell you that yet?"

"Um, you kind of mentioned it," Aang murmured.

"She's sort of been trying to kill us all for the past five years," he finished.

"But we've got her locked up now," Suki noted.

"Also, she's totally nuts," Sokka said. "But I guess you probably knew that already."

"Mai died," Suki said softly.

"Yeah, I told him that earlier," Sokka nodded.

"Azula did it," Suki added.

"Right," Sokka went on. "Um – what else? Well... Toph's got a boyfriend now, if you didn't catch that before."

They all instantly heard Toph's voice bellow from somewhere inside the house: "_He's not my boyfriend!_"

Sokka shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway..."

"Oh!" Suki exclaimed. "Zuko's mom finally came back. Apparently she was living with the Airbenders on the Lion Turtle for a while! Isn't that crazy?"

"Yeah!" Sokka nodded eagerly. "We've all been calling her 'Tursa,' because she lived on a turtle – "

"_No one's_ been calling her that, Sokka," Suki rolled her eyes. "Just give it up already."

Sokka glowered at her. "But _he _didn't know that! Now you ruined it!"

Suki sighed wearily. "Well, _anyway_ – "

"Yeah – uh, let's see..."

"Anything else?" Suki glanced at him.

Sokka shook his head thoughtfully. "No, I think that just about covers everything. Oh – wait! And also the Fire Nation took over the world after you left."

Aang gawked at him.

Suki scowled at him.

Sokka, grinning feebly, shifted his eyes between the two of them, then quickly dissolved into a sullen frown. "Yeah, sorry. You're right. Not funny."

* * *

><p>Zuko wasn't sure what he and Katara would find, once they arrived back at the healing house, but every step he took through the icy streets filled him with dread. Yet his feet walked on, stubbornly, carrying him ever closer to the imminent encounter.<p>

Katara walked by his side, neither before nor behind him, for she was still far from eager to return to her hopeless vigil, but she didn't trust Zuko not to lag behind and quietly slip away when she wasn't looking. So, no matter how quickly or slowly he walked – no matter how quickly or slowly she might have preferred to go on her own – she kept pace carefully beside him, as they retraced the long path back over the labyrinthine lanes and canals and bridges, back up to the highest tier of the city, back up to the healing house, where everything waited for them.

The sun had risen now, and all was glistening with pale arctic daylight, though the dimness of night still lingered in the crannies of the city – and, out of the corner of his eye, Zuko watched Katara, and again resented how cruelly beautiful she looked at that moment: grand and gentle and stubborn and tousled and effortlessly graceful. He wondered, perhaps, if it was all in his head – if, perhaps, she didn't look any different now than she ever had, but only now did it really strike him because they were on their way back to the healing house, and Aang was there, and Aang was awake – and so this was the last moment, the very last moment of Zuko's life, that Katara would be with him before she was Aang's again.

He didn't resent Aang for it, though. He might have, years ago, even weeks ago – maybe. But not now. In fact, just now, Zuko felt rather relieved that this was the last moment he'd spend with Katara before she was reunited with Aang. Perhaps, once they were really, truly together again, it would be much easier to stop hanging on – it would be much easier, after this, for him to simply notice Katara's beauty objectively, without any traces of longing or regret. That would be nice, he thought: to appreciate Katara without needing her. The idea almost made him eager to get back to the healing house, to release her to Aang and go on his merry, unattached way at last.

But then, he thought, Katara wasn't the only one who was going to meet Aang face-to-face again once they returned – and the thought of meeting Aang himself almost made him retreat again. But he didn't, because Katara was walking beside him, and he was too stubborn to retreat while she was there – too stubborn to even show her any hints that he wanted to retreat.

What would they find? – It must have been at least an hour now since Zuko had fled the healing house. Surely by now Aang would be out of bed – surely someone would have found him. Probably Sokka. _Undoubtedly_ Sokka. Surely by now Sokka would have told Aang everything – including, of course, the fact that Katara had spent the last four or five years of her life living with him in the Fire Nation.

Suddenly, Zuko began to curse himself for not staying, solely because he now realized that he'd entrusted the entire story to Sokka, left his own representation in Sokka's hands. He _did _trust Sokka – he knew Sokka didn't have any problems with him, or any reason to make Aang think badly of him (at least, not any more than Zuko thought he deserved). But he still churned with sudden anxiety, wondering what Sokka might have said about him and Katara. How much did Sokka really know? How much did Sokka _think _he knew? And how had Sokka been interpreting his behavior during these past few days? What might he lead Aang to believe, intentionally or not...?

_I should have stayed. I should have stayed and explained everything myself!_

But he hadn't. He'd run away, because he was a coward. And now it was too late. He'd just have to trust that Sokka had been kind – or at least fair – or at least tactful.

The healing house was in their sight now, just down the lane and across one last bridge. Zuko glanced once more at Katara, and saw that she was staring very hard at the icy ground before her feet – and he wondered what she was thinking about. A cloud of despair had been gathering over her, growing more and more substantial the nearer they came to their destination; Zuko could feel it. Once again he considered just telling her that Aang was awake – but he kept silent, and they walked on.

When they passed through the front entrance, the halls were beginning to stir with life, as the healers awoke and began going about their usual business. They passed silently up to the second floor – and as they entered the hallway where Aang's room was, Zuko felt Katara start to lag behind for the first time during their long walk.

"Katara, come on," he urged her quietly, reaching out for her arm.

She sighed heavily, and shut her eyes tight, as if against a sharp pain. "Just give me a minute," she whispered.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm..." She shook her head. "I was trying not to get my hopes up on the way here. But I did anyway. So now I'm trying to get them back down again."

Zuko sighed, taking her by the arm and pulling her forward. "You don't have to do that," he finally said. "There's nothing wrong with getting your hopes up."

"Zuko." She looked at him, and her eyes suddenly welled with something earnest and gentle. "Look, I'm really sorry. I know things have been kind of weird lately, and – and I guess maybe I was a little hard on you earlier. But I just – I really want you to know that... Well, that I care about you a lot, no matter what."

He breathed deeply, and didn't look at her. "I know, Katara."

"I just mean, it's not that I want to throw you out, or something, now that Aang's back. It's not like that. I hope you don't think that."

"No. It's fine, Katara."

"I really want things to be okay with us – "

"I know. Come on, we're almost there."

"I just couldn't stand it if we weren't friends anymore because of all this," she went on, as Zuko reached for the door. "And I couldn't stand it if you and Aang weren't – "

The door swung open slowly, and Zuko held his breath, bracing himself for whatever might be inside –

Katara looked inside, and her heart stopped.

The room was empty.

Zuko glanced at the empty room, surprised – but not _very_ surprised. Mostly relieved, for the time being. Relieved that he wouldn't have to face Aang just yet. Then he looked at Katara.

Her eyes were frozen to the empty bed. Her breathing escalated almost instantly to a frantic rate. The blood drained from her face.

"Katara?" he whispered cautiously.

"Where is he?" she gasped – a hoarse scrape of a sound that rapidly rose into a shrill, panicked shriek. "He's not here! _He's not here! WHERE IS HE?!_"

"Katara, I'm sure he's – "

But she tore off back down the hall, nearly trampling one of the healing women, who leaped out of her way with a small, startled cry.

And Zuko stood at the entrance to the empty room, watching her vanish down the hall – unsure whether he ought to go after her, or just stay out of it for now. The echoes of her voice, frantically shouting Aang's name, reverberated wildly throughout the healing house's corridors.

* * *

><p>Toph returned to the courtyard carrying a small mug full of clear liquid, trotting up to Aang and handing it to him. "There you go!"<p>

"Thanks, Toph," Aang sighed, taking the mug and tilting it back to gulp down the water. But as soon as it slid down his throat, bitterly burning, he choked and sputtered, "This isn't water!"

"Nope! Gin." Toph grinned, reaching out to push the mug back and coax him to drink it all. "I was _going _to get you water, but I happened to stumble across this instead, and, well... Just trust me, Twinkle Toes. You'll thank me later."

"Can I have some?" Tenzin asked.

"_No_," Toph said sternly. "Ask again in like ten years, okay, squirt?"

As Aang finished off the gin, with a disgusted grimace and a shudder, Sokka fixed him with a very serious look. "Aang."

He wiped his mouth, teetering dizzily. "What?"

"You know you've got to talk to Katara eventually."

Aang gazed at him a moment, turbulent bursts of fear and anguish and regret all stirring in his eyes – then he dropped his gaze to the snow around his feet, and murmured softly, "But she's – I mean, she's not around right now, so..."

Sokka studied him, with a knowing and gently urgent expression. "Look, Aang," he sighed. "I know you've had a pretty rough... uh, _hour_, so far. But Katara's gonna be back any second now, and you have to talk to her. She went through a lot to save you. _A lot_. And – not to sound creepy – but really, the only reason she wasn't hovering over you ready to tackle you as soon as you opened your eyes is that she was too exhausted from waiting for you to wake up. She's been dying to see you for five years, and I mean that almost literally... You _have_ to talk to her."

Uneasily, Aang glanced at Sokka. He guessed that Sokka must know that something had happened between him and Katara before, that something had gone wrong. But he doubted Sokka actually knew what it was; most likely Sokka thought they'd had some petty argument, or something like that. Sokka didn't know. He didn't know that, really, what made Aang cringe at the thought of facing Katara again was not just a minor surface injury, but one that dug deep into the very heart of who he was and who Katara was and who the two of them were, together. One that pierced the core of their relationship and unraveled it, shattered all its foundations, so that nothing could stand.

The truth was, Katara just didn't want him. Aang knew it, though Sokka didn't – no one did, except Aang. None of them understood. She simply didn't want him, and that was that. Yes, maybe she thought she did, at certain times, in certain moods. Aang himself had thought she did too, for years. And yet, when it had come to the point of _forever_ – while Aang had been so sure and unafraid, and so confident that she would be too – she'd run away and left him alone, left him crushed under the terrible weight of his aloneness, smashed to pieces.

It had been five years. He knew it had been five years for all of them, and for her. But it _hadn't _been for him. For him, it had only been a day or two. He was still feeling raw and tender, still reeling from the blow – still in pieces. And he hadn't had much of a chance to try to put himself together again yet, not with everything else that had been dumped on him so suddenly. And especially not when every mention of Katara – just the sound of her name – immediately brought up those vivid images of their last meeting: her face freezing, her mouth clamping shut, her feet carrying her away from him... Not while the words she'd said to him were still lingering as brutal echoes in his mind, and each time he thought about it all his broken pieces only broke a little more, into smaller pieces. And no matter how much everyone else tried to reassure him, he just couldn't reconcile those images and those words with the idea that she might suddenly want to be with him after all.

But – still – he didn't know. He wanted to hope, maybe... But he didn't know. He was only confused – dreadfully confused, and terrified.

She'd saved him from Koh. That meant something, didn't it? Aang still could hardly fathom that it had really happened, and he couldn't imagine how she'd done it, but he figured it couldn't have been easy. If she'd gone through all that trouble... And everyone else seemed so sure that she was desperate to see him –

But, if she was so desperate, then where was she? Why did she stay away so long?

And what if she'd saved him out of – out of _pity?_ What if she'd felt guilty for rejecting him, and so thought that she had to save him? What if she'd saved him simply because that was what she did – because that was who she was? She was always saving people. The fact that it just happened to be _him _that needed saving didn't mean anything special; she'd have done the same for anyone else.

Or maybe, she'd saved him for Tenzin's sake, more than her own.

But – Tenzin. Tenzin changed things, right? – Now the two of them had a third, a son who belonged to both of them.

And yet – Aang couldn't stand the idea that Katara might choose to be with him only out of some sense of... _obligation_. Only for Tenzin's sake. He didn't think she would do that – but then, it had been five years. Who was she now? Did he really know what she would do? – Well, but clearly, Katara had done all right without him so far. Perhaps she didn't need him at all. But then again_ – _she'd been on her own all this time. Aang had left her to raise Tenzin alone (though he hadn't meant to); the feeling that he'd accidentally abandoned the two of them filled him with shame and dread, dread that Katara might harbor some secret resentment over that, so secret that even _she _wasn't aware of it, but it would surface eventually. Just like other hidden things had surfaced.

Five years was such a long time, too. What if she'd changed, while he'd only stayed the same? What if they were strangers now? What if she'd been thinking about him all this time, but her idea of who he was had evolved into something else over the years, so that now, when they were face-to-face again, she'd only be disappointed and remember why she didn't want him in the first place?

No – he felt that he was almost _guaranteed _to disappoint her, somehow.

His heart twisted in hopeless agony at the thought of it. He couldn't face her – he still loved her too much. Disappointing her would be unbearable. And if he even allowed himself to get his hopes up that maybe, somehow, impossibly, inexplicably, everything was suddenly different now and she _did _want him after all and nothing that had happened before even mattered – if he let himself hope that, he would only be crushed again, and this time he'd be so thoroughly broken that he'd never fix himself in a million years.

"Aang?" Suki asked quietly, wrenching him out of his miserable thoughts.

"Hm," Aang murmured, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. "I'm okay."

"Let's go see if Momma's back now," Tenzin cried, taking Ursa's hand. "Maybe Zuko's here too. We have to tell them about everything. Come on!" He dragged her off across the courtyard, and in a moment the two of them had disappeared into the healing house, leaving the adults there alone.

"Maybe I'll go look too," Toph said, turning to follow the children. "It's way too cold out here anyway."

"Aang," Sokka insisted, frowning worriedly at the Airbender, who was still walled-off in his own cloud of silent dejection. "Really. I know you might not believe me, but once you talk to Katara again, you'll see. It'll be okay."

"Yeah, I guess," Aang muttered, his voice drained of any conviction or happiness.

"Here, actually, I'll get you some more gin," Toph suggested suddenly, darting back and snatching the empty mug out of Aang's hand. "That'll make you feel better."

Suki leaned over and whispered to Aang as Toph ran off, "Hurry, take Appa and fly away before she gets back!"

"I heard that, _Sugar Buns!_" Toph bellowed, as she slipped back into the house.

"Sokka!" Suki cried fiercely, sending him a vicious glare. "Now look what you did! She's never gonna forget that."

Sokka just shrugged indifferently. "Sorry?"

"Maybe we should go inside too," Aang spoke up after a moment, rubbing his arms. "I'm starting to feel kinda cold myself."

Sokka scrutinized him, furrowing his brow – thinking that something felt wrong about that statement, that Aang was _never_ cold – but he shrugged it off, assuming it was probably nothing important, and nodded gravely at Aang.

"Sure," he said. "Let's go. We can all wait for Katara to get back. She should be here any second now. I can't imagine she'd really stay away _this _long."

Aang gave Appa one last, pensive pat on the head, and then turned to follow Sokka and Suki, who were beginning to trudge back through the snow toward the house.

He shivered as he walked, wondering why the chill had come so suddenly over him – wondering why he couldn't send it away, as he normally could. He wanted to be inside; but his footsteps grew slower, more reluctant, as they neared the door.

Suki glanced back at him, noticing his hesitant pace. "Aang, are you coming?"

"Yeah," he sighed, forcing his feet to move forward a little bit faster. "Yeah – it's just... I don't know. What should I say?"

"To Katara?" Sokka asked, also peering back at him over his shoulder with a small smile. "You probably won't have to say much of anything, honestly. In fact, you probably won't be _able _to say much of anything."

"But I mean – " Aang murmured, searching the ground anxiously with his eyes – "I don't know. Last time I saw her, she was sort of... not talking to me. What if...?" He flushed, and couldn't finish speaking his thought, but it was clear enough what he was dreading.

Sokka reached to open the door, studying Aang carefully – and he was just about to reassure Aang again that he _really _didn't need to worry so much, when he was interrupted by someone shoving through the door at the exact moment that he pulled on it. The result of this unfortunate coincidence was that Sokka pulled much harder than he needed to, lost his balance, and fell backwards onto his rump; and meanwhile the person who'd barged through the door – Katara – likewise found that the door gave way much too easily for her, and she went reeling uncontrollably forward, straight into Aang, who caught her in astonishment and stumbled backwards a few steps.

Suki, standing by and watching, burst into laughter.

"Katara!" Aang cried, and his face went pale instantly.

"_Aang! _You're – !" She didn't manage to finish her startled squeak of a sentence, because before she could gasp out a third word, she'd already thrown her trembling arms around his neck and pulled him into a ferocious kiss, shuddering and sobbing and bursting with relief all at once.

Aang's eyes went wide in surprise, and his pale face immediately flushed bright red. Meanwhile Toph appeared in the doorway, as Suki was helping Sokka back to his feet.

"Found her!" Toph declared, chuckling delightedly.

As soon as Katara released him, Aang gawked at her, thoroughly stunned and baffled – unsure whether to be absurdly happy or cautiously incredulous. "I, um – ?"

But, before he could say anything more, she launched into a weeping, beaming, quivering, hiccuping, frantic and angry and joyful tirade – during which Aang could only continue gawking at her, powerless and dumbfounded.

"_Why would you do that to me?!_" she thundered, tears streaming down her face and laughter spurting out of her uncontrollably. "You were – I thought you were – " Another kiss, amid tumultuous sobs – "I thought you were gone again! I thought I'd lost you again! Don't _ever _do that to me again! Why would you do that? You – " A breathless gasp, and a burst of laughter – "You waited until after I left to wake up! I waited for you for _three days_, and you didn't wake up until after I left!" She hit him angrily in the shoulder, and then laughed again. "Why would you do that to me, you jerk! That was just – that was just – that was just _mean..._!" And she dissolved into another helplessly passionate kiss.

Aang, by that point, was nearly reduced to a flabbergasted puddle on the ground. He held onto her tight, tighter, gladly, and brimmed with dizzy, giddy relief; but he also took it all in passive confusion and uncertainty, and didn't close his eyes when she kissed him – and his head suddenly started to throb, and he felt his heart trip over something fearful and doubtful and almost indignant. But it was _Katara_ – and she'd never lavished this much unbridled affection on him all at once, and he didn't know what to do with it, and he didn't know what to do with her, but he didn't want her to stop, but he didn't understand her, but he wasn't sure now that he needed to – but she'd crushed his heart only a day ago, and the heartbreak was still aching – but, but, but it was _Katara_ – and maybe now it was okay after all, though he didn't know why it was, or why it hadn't always been okay in the first place – and he wasn't sure if he should just accept it blindly like he wanted to, or if he should question it warily like he thought he needed to, or _what._

He glanced up helplessly at Sokka, who was making an odd uncomfortable face at the two of them. But as Suki took his arm and began pulling him quietly inside, he gave Aang a quick little wave and a look that meant, "Told you so!" – or maybe, "Well, good luck with that!" And they slipped discreetly inside, and Toph shut the door, leaving Katara and Aang alone in the courtyard.

When she released him again, he gaped at her, hopelessly flustered. "Uh... Hi, Katara?" he gasped.

She just stared at him for a second, flushing and shuddering again with overflowing giddiness. "_Aang!_ Wow, it's – it's really... Um, hi. Hi, Aang." She started to laugh again, and blushed brighter. "Sorry."

His face was already burning ferociously, and it only grew worse once he finally got to take a clear look at her. She'd changed, too, like everyone else – though he couldn't figure out what exactly was different about her – but she was still, still, so much the same as she'd always been, and shockingly beautiful at that particular moment: her long hair flew freely about her, sprinkled with snow flurries, and her blue eyes gleamed in the wintry sunlight, and she simply _glowed_. His heart thudded frantically.

"You, uh..." he stammered awkwardly, suddenly terrified of saying something stupid, "you seem... pretty happy to see me?"

She blushed more fiercely, shaking her head with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry!" she laughed. "You must think I'm crazy! It's just... it's just been a really long time, you know?"

"Yeah?" he murmured thoughtfully, and a little uneasily. "Yeah, I guess it has, huh?"

Her face lit up each time he spoke, as if she were delighted merely at the sound of his voice. She nodded slowly, "I've been waiting awhile."

"Yeah... I, um – I heard."

"Did you meet Tenzin?" Her entire body suddenly tensed up with excitement.

"Oh – yeah!" Aang nodded fervently, grinning a little bit. "Yeah. Sure did."

"Did he like you? What did you talk about? What did he say?"

"Um," Aang stumbled, scratching his head and chuckling softly. "Lots of things. He – he asked me to go penguin sledding."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Of course. He's been waiting to do that."

"And he said my voice sounded different than he thought it would...?"

She just beamed at him then. "Oh." She shook her head quickly, chuckling. "Well, don't worry. It sounds just right."

Aang felt himself blushing wildly again. "Oh, uh... good? I mean – thanks?"

Still staring at him as if she couldn't believe he existed, she suddenly choked on a small sob, smiled tremulously, and brought her hand up to touch his face. "I can't believe it's you," she sighed. "You're really here. Just like yourself!"

"Well..." He wasn't sure what to say to that. "I _am _myself. I think. So...?"

Tears were beginning to roll down her face again, though she was still smiling helplessly. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, she pressed her face into his shoulder.

Tentatively, he put his arms around her; his heart was racing madly, and he still wasn't sure what to do with her. It seemed perfect – too perfect. Exactly what he wanted: for her to suddenly, inexplicably, turn around and love him again; for everything that had happened before to be utterly eradicated. But the problem was, it couldn't be eradicated; the problem was, it _was _inexplicable – it didn't make any sense. Not so much that she was happy to see him now, but that she'd crushed him so abruptly before. He still didn't know what he'd done that had caused her to suddenly shove him away like that, and now his happiness was tainted with the cold dread that he might accidentally do something wrong again and ruin it.

"Don't ever leave me again," she ordered him softly.

"Oh... o-okay?" he faltered, apprehensive and overwhelmed. "I'll try?"

"_No_. Not try. Just _don't_."

"Uh, okay, I won't?"

She suddenly quaked with tears in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked anxiously, and impulsively squeezed her a little tighter. "Look – it's... I mean, there's no need to get so worked up. I'm fine now... Come on, it's okay. Don't cry, K – "

Without warning, she jolted back and covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't!" she cried. "Don't say that, Aang. Ever again. Please."

His eyes shifted in bewilderment, and his question came out muffled through her hand: "Whuh nuh?"

But she just shook her head fiercely. "Just – _don't_. As a favor to me. Okay?"

"Uh... Ohay?"

Then, with a sigh of deep contentment, she pressed her forehead against his and just breathed, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. Her face lit up with a serene, joyful smile, and the tip of her nose brushed against the tip of his, and sent a gentle bolt of lightning straight through him.

He could feel himself quivering, head to toe. Everything about her threatened to topple him. He wanted so desperately just to enjoy it, with the same tranquility that she seemed to be enjoying – but he couldn't. His heart was stirring with doubts and fears, screaming that it only _seemed _perfect – it was too good to be true – that everything had been good and perfect before, too, just before it all fell apart.

But he couldn't think. Not here, not like this, not with her. He couldn't get his thoughts moving in a straight line. She tied them in knots without even trying.

"Katara...?"

"Hm?"

"Could...?" he wavered uncertainly, losing his grip on his train of thought once again when she opened her eyes and gazed at him. "I mean – are you sure...? I mean, I'm not really... Maybe we – shouldn't, right now...?"

"Shouldn't what?"

"It's just... I mean, I'm really..." he stammered. He was already forgetting what he was trying to say – anxiously trying to hold onto his wary thoughts – and he only managed to cling to one feeble but very true statement: "I'm just really kind of confused...?"

Katara gazed at him in silence for a moment, and then beamed at him blissfully.

"Don't be," she commanded him, rather unreasonably, in a soft whisper.

"But – "

She didn't allow him to protest anymore, cutting him off with another kiss, long and deep and insistent – one that instantly silenced all thought and shattered all defenses, piercing straight into his vulnerable heart.

And Aang just crumbled at last, overwhelmed by her, lost in a confused whirlwind of hopeless longing, and lacking the strength or certainty to even try to resist anymore.

"Okay," he gasped, and finally kissed her back fiercely, surrendering to the too-good-to-be-trueness with the painful intensity of someone who knows it won't last, _knows _it'll all go wrong again, but simply can't help himself.

And Katara quaked with happiness, curling her arms around him tighter – and if she sensed that there was anything wrong, she didn't pay it any heed. She assumed that his kiss meant that he was okay after all, and she was glad.

But he wasn't okay; he was merely desperate to feel like he was.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, dear Aang... poor confused boy. He is not at all okay at the moment. But at least he's here! <em>^_^

_Anyway, I just want to reiterate, this story is still very far from being over! I know how the rest of it's gonna go, but I'm not sure how long it will end up being – but I do know that there's still a ways to go! Yay. _^_^_ And although I'm __greatly__ looking forward to writing the rest of it, I need to put a small disclaimer here: This coming semester (starting tomorrow), I'll be trying to finish a very massive and stressful Thesis Project, plus studying for a huge test in Feb. These things will determine whether or not I graduate in May... which, y'know, I'd like to do. So, up until about the end of February/beginning of March (which is about when my thesis is due), I may not have tons of time to write for fun. I'll continue to write in my spare time, of course, if only to keep myself from going insane. But considering that I tend to write long chapters, and also revise them extensively before posting, there may be some long waits... At least until March comes around, when I'll suddenly have TONS of free time and will be able to write for fun almost whenever I want! So, if I seem dormant for a little while, that's why. In the meantime, be patient and don't worry! I've sworn to finish this fanfic, and I won't rest until I've completed my mission. _:D

_Also, geez, it's so nice to have Aang back in the story for realz now! All these next few parts are gonna be really fun. _^_^

**NEXT UPDATE NEWS:**

**OK, so here's the deal... **

**First off, I AM 100% definitely going to finish this story. It's not going to be a "heart-wrenching, never-ending hiatus," to quote a concerned PM I got from crystle111. I've got a lot of the future chapters either planned out or sketchily written right, including several pieces of the next chapter, and I also continue to frequently obsess about this story at times when I really shouldn't... So, yeah. It's not going to be forgotten. Just wanted to make that clear before I said anything else. ^_^**

**(On an encouraging note, this long hiatus has given me a lot of new ideas that I hadn't thought about before, though now I can't imagine how I was ever going to tell the rest of the story without them. So, really, the wait will be worth it, I promise, even though you all will never actually know what a difference it made).**

**Right. Now the actual news. The thing is, it turns out I just picked a really, really bad time in my life to attempt to finish this story, haha. Good news: I passed my massive test back in Feb, yay! Bad news: I've been working on my Master's Thesis almost nonstop since then, but I ended up having to postpone the deadline and just accept the fact that I simply wasn't going to graduate on time. (I also discovered that almost no one in my program actually graduates on time... Yeah, it's kinda screwed up). So now I have to have the thesis ready to defend by the end of _this _month, approximately. And even now I'm overwhelmed with how much work I still need to do on it and whether or not I'm going to have to postpone my defense and graduation AGAIN - and if I do I won't have a job all during that time and so I have no idea how I'll pay for tuition, rent or food, lol. So I'm freaking out a little bit.**

**Ahem... yep. That's what's going on. I really honestly have no idea when I'll be able to update again, especially since I've been having trouble with the next chapter (yes, despite everything I just said, I have been working on the next chapter here and there - it keeps me from going insane), and of course I won't post anything unless I feel that it's up to a certain standard of quality. But, of course, reaching that standard of quality unfortunately means that I can't really just punch it out in an hour or two. It tends to take some time. So, yeah.**

**Well, I'm really sorry, guys! All of you who have sent me reviews and PMs about when I'll update again have just been breaking my heart, but in a good way (not that I take pleasure in your pain - just because it makes me feel like I've written a story that actually _means _something to people other than just myself, and that's the best feeling in the world for a writer. Even if it's just a fanfic. ^_^) I hate to make you all wait longer, but that's just the way it has to be for now. Trust me, it's been just as painful for me to be all responsible and stuff and _not _work on this story.**

**That's about all I had to say. Hopefully most of you will actually _see _this message, ha. (I've been feeling so anxious, like "I really wanna explain what's up but I can't without posting a new chapter! Oh... wait, I can just edit the last one. Derp." Heh.)**

**~RainAndRoses**

**P.S. Gigglemachine: Your enthusiasm amuses me, lol. Just so you know, I'd be happy to chat with you over PMs anytime, if you want an update or something. But since you don't have a FFnet account, the only way I can reply to any of your reviews is by actually posting a new chapter and replying in the A/Ns... which is not really feasible right now. So... yeah. Just throwing that out there. ^_^**


	45. The Avatar's Morning, Part One: Whiplash

_*Deep breath* All right, here goes...  
><em>

_Hello! I'm FINALLY back! Sorry it took so long. (For an explanation of the long delay, see the note I edited into the end of the previous chapter) (And __**Transmundane-Transmutation-95**__, I'm sorry I missed your birthday! By like... a lot. I actually did feel bad about that, haha). Thanks so much to EVERYONE for all your wonderful reviews and your slightly concerned PMs, haha. I did check the story frequently during my long hiatus, and seeing new reviews & PMs always made my day, sometimes in the midst of very dark days... So really, REALLY_, _thanks! _:')

_Ahem. So, I was really tempted to call this chapter "Aangst," but I figured that probably wouldn't fit with the tone of the rest of the story. Heh. This one was pretty difficult to write—mostly because trying to get into Aang's head at this point is kinda... overwhelming. Also, I've realized upon rereading some parts of this chapter that I drafted several months ago that I think I was subconsciously influenced by Virginia Woolf's __To The Lighthouse__, which I had to read__ back in Feb. (It's all about relationships and misunderstandings and all the things you can never fully express in words. Also, _thinking_. Lots and lots of excessively detailed _thinking... _But it's good. For really real.)__  
><em>

_But anyways... So this has absolutely nothing to do with the following chapter, but since I've gotten quite a few comments/suggestions/inquiries about it, I thought I might as well mention: yes, everyone, TY LEE IS GOING TO BE IN THIS STORY. Yay. She's not gonna have a big part, but she will show up eventually. Ha, as if this story doesn't have __enough__ characters to keep track of already. _^_^

_Also, just a random thing that I can't resist inserting here: so I read Part One of "The Search" a while back, and, just as I anticipated, I already like my own Ursa-story better... And not because I'm just biased towards my own stuff, haha. Even though the comic was really lovely and quite creative at times, there were a few problems I had with the portrayal of Ursa... But I'll save my opinion on that for the A/N at the bottom of the page, so you can get along with the story. (Seriously, though, just sayin... Aang and Katara calling each other "sweetie" all the time is __still__ weird. I don't even really know why, it just is. I mean, they're the most adorable couple ever, and they make my heart all fluttery—but every time they call each other "sweetie" in those comics I just gag a little.)_

Mai: "Plus, they made me and Zuko break up in 'The Promise.' What was up with that?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Yeah, I don't know! Maybe they'll get you guys back together sometime in 'The Search'?"<br>Mai: *_sigh_* "I doubt it. I get the feeling they were just trying to get rid of me. Seems to happen to me a lot."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw!" *<em>guilt<em>* "Want another custard tart?"  
>Mai: *<em>shrug<em>* "Sure, why not? Might as well eat away the pain... Where do you get all these custard tarts, anyway?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "From my Magic Author Bag, of course!"<br>Mai: "?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Just go with it." ^_^<p>

* * *

><p><strong>THE AVATAR'S MORNING, PART ONE:<br>Whiplash**

It didn't take long at all for the news that the long-missing Avatar had finally awoken to begin trickling around on the breathless voices of the healing women as they set about their day's work, and even as Katara kissed him in the courtyard under the pale early morning sunlight, already the sleepy healing house was beginning to stir to life behind them, buzzing with growing awareness of the exciting turn of events. Many of the healers knew the story by now, knew all about Katara's long journey and her thrilling adventure in the Spirit World; many had seen her sitting by Aang's side almost constantly for the past few days. Those who didn't know soon heard about it from the others, for such a wild, romantic tale was one that was almost _guaranteed _to get around quickly, becoming wilder and more romantic as it went. And now—after five years!—he was finally alive and awake again. It was about time!

Within the span of the next hour, the news would leak out of the healing house and into the streets of the city itself. There, it would drift and drift, until eventually reaching the ears of a few troubled Waterbending guards, who'd left their post at the prisons that morning to go inform the Chief that sometime during the previous night, two mysterious figures—one claiming to be the Avatar—had visited their dangerous Firebending prisoner and had, presumably, walked right through the iron bars that contained her in order to leave her with the marks of a rather vicious beating. A beating which they now suspected that Fire Lord Zuko had not, in fact, approved of.

Their sudden realization, thanks to the healing house's migrating whispers, that the Avatar had apparently been still _unconscious _at the time, would only serve to trouble them more.

But for now, while Aang kissed Katara back and tried his hardest to feel okay, the news was still just beginning to spread amongst the healers, and no one in the healing house yet suspected the consequences, or was even yet aware of it—especially not Katara, who was aware of nothing at all now in the entire universe except her own dizzy, flaring joy and the feeling of Aang's arms crushing her tightly into himself.

* * *

><p>After watching Katara bluster off down the hall in search of Aang, Zuko had lingered pensively by the empty bedroom, standing just inside the threshold and leaning against the doorframe, with his arms crossed and his head resting on his chest in deep contemplation.<p>

No one bothered him, or even really paid much attention to him, and so he didn't feel any motivation to move quite yet. He stared down at his feet—both which now stood inside the room—and his brow knotted slightly with an almost scolding glare at them. Katara was gone, and he was trying to decide whether he was feeling a refreshing kind of relief at that, or a draining kind of regret. Both emotions seemed equally prevalent, though he didn't understand how that worked.

Mostly, though, he once more began to anxiously wonder when—and where—and _how _he was going to talk to Aang.

Should he go try to find him now—just get it over with? Or should he wait until Aang had had some time to recover, until Aang and Katara had had some time to themselves? Surely they wouldn't want to be bothered right now, after not seeing each other for five years—especially not for what Zuko had to say to Aang.

But what exactly _was _he going to say? He had to make sure Aang knew where he stood. He had to confess all his shame—all his feelings for Katara, all the troubling jealousy and bitterness he'd been wallowing in these past few years. He had to ask for forgiveness, no matter if Aang was willing to give it now or not.

But how would he even begin? Zuko tried to picture himself approaching Aang—somewhere, sometime very soon—tried to imagine how he'd start.

_Hey, Aang... Zuko here._

Zuko shook his head. No, that was stupid. Just because Aang had been gone for five years didn't mean Zuko needed to re-introduce himself. It's not like Aang would have forgotten him. That would just be weird.

No, no. Something else. Something casual—like everything was normal.

_So, Aang... How's life?_

No, wait—that wouldn't work either. Aang hadn't really _had _a life for the past five years.

Zuko sighed. Maybe he should just skip that part. Just grit his teeth and dive straight into the point.

_So, Aang. Sorry to bother you. I know you and Katara are probably all happy to be together—and stuff—right now—and you probably don't really want to talk to me. But..._

_Just wanted to say... sorry... for that whole, me-falling-in-love-with-your-girlfriend-while-you- were-gone thing... that happened. It was sort of an accident._

_But don't worry, I'm over it. Except—I'm not really. But I'm trying. But... I'm sorry.  
><em>

_That's all. Carry on._

Zuko cringed. Yeah—he could see that going badly in a million different ways. And not just for himself.

After several long moments of silently puzzling over this predicament, he glanced out into the hallway and suddenly saw Toph come sprinting around the corner and pounding down the corridor towards him, maneuvering deftly between the growing number of busy, gossiping healing women. She was flushed with cold and excitement, grinning breathlessly, and she seemed distracted, preoccupied with other thoughts, so at first she raced straight past him. But even as she did so, her bare feet skidded to a hasty stop.

"Oh! Hey, Zuko!" she cried, wheeling around and beaming in his general direction, panting for breath from her run. She opened her mouth to ask something—then suddenly stopped, with a perplexed tilt of her head, though her cheerful grin didn't falter. "Whatcha doin'? Just—moping around, for fun?"

"Something like that, I guess," he sighed.

"Well, quit it!" she laughed, punching him swiftly in the arm—as she did. The force of her blow nearly knocked him off his feet, and elicited a small groan of pain from him. "No time for moping today!"

He rubbed his arm, wincing slightly, and glanced at her beaming face hesitantly. "Where's... where's Aang?"

Toph paused, and her bright unabashed smile instantly transitioned into a delighted lopsided smirk. "Heh," she snickered. "Uh... making out with Katara in the back courtyard, I believe."

Zuko's eyes studied the ground pensively for a moment, and then he allowed himself a small, soft, resigned chuckle as well. "Yeah. That's—that's about what I thought." He sighed again. "Well... good. It's good they're back together." And he actually meant it much more than he'd expected he would—though his heart still ached numbly with each new beat.

Toph must have sensed his despondency—either that, or she already knew about all his issues (he wouldn't have been surprised)—because a second later her face softened sympathetically, and she put a hand on his arm. "Hey? You okay?"

Zuko nodded hastily. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine." He exhaled slowly, trying to breathe out the pain, then pulled himself together again. "How's Aang doing? I mean, is he—you know, handling everything all right so far?"

Toph snickered again, uncontrollably. "Well, yeah. Mostly he's taken it all pretty well. There was a minor fainting mishap when he found out about Tenzin. But other than that, he's good."

Zuko hesitated. "So I guess... I guess you guys have explained pretty much everything to him by now, right?"

"Yeah," Toph said slowly, furrowing her brow a bit in thought, and drifting into another knowing, sympathetic smile. "But—you know, maybe you'd better go talk to him yourself, huh, Zuko?"

He didn't respond at first—silenced by the churning of his own anxious thoughts—and finally he sighed yet again, and his fingers meandered into his pockets and brushed against the necklace that was still there, waiting to be returned. Somehow, the feeling of it gave Zuko a new burst of resolve.

"I will," he said, firmly. "I'll talk to him. As soon as I can." He glanced at Toph again, feeling suddenly a little foolish. "So when do you think he'll be...? I mean, I know him and Katara probably want some time alone, right? I'd feel like kind of a jerk if I just barged in on their space."

Toph laughed again, loudly this time, and gave him another punch in the arm—this one not quite as violent as the first, but just as affectionate. "You're already a jerk," she remarked flippantly, grinning. "But we all like you anyway, so don't worry about it. Just do what you need to do."

Zuko took a deep breath, fortifying himself. "I guess I'll just wait a little while, till they've had some time."

Toph shrugged, with a wide yawn, growing distracted once more. "Whatever you want," she said, turning and resuming her trek down the corridor, now at a leisurely stroll rather than a wild sprint. But before she'd taken six steps, she paused, calling back at him over her shoulder, "Hey, you haven't seen Pipsqueak around, have you?"

Zuko frowned. "Who?"

"Y'know, the other bald guy."

"You mean Yonten?"

"Yeah, him. Whatever." She waved her hand impatiently. "You know where he is? He seems to have disappeared ever since Aang's unfortunate fainting incident earlier this morning."

"Uh," Zuko furrowed his brow, then shrugged. "No, I haven't seen him."

Toph's face fell into a baffled and rather annoyed frown. "Geez," she huffed. "I told him to lay low, not to vanish off the face of the planet!... Well, I'll track him down. Thanks anyway, Zuko."

* * *

><p>"... I <em>really<em> missed you."

"Yeah... Me too... I mean—wait, no..."

"I really, _really _missed you. _So _much."

"Oh... Uh-huh?"

"Really. You don't—you don't even _know_..."

They were still entangled in one another's arms, both breathing and breathing and rippling with the quaking aftermath of their kiss, neither entirely aware of what they were even saying to each other—both too overwhelmed to bother fully thinking about it. The snow was falling in the courtyard now, bright in the light of morning, and Katara was feeling lightheaded and delirious, intoxicated with pure, raw, undiluted happiness. The suffocating intensity of her joy only grew sharper with every new beat of his heart against her chest and every new breath he took—each one precious in its quiet ordinariness, vividly honing her awareness of how nearly he'd been lost forever, how easily he could just _not _be there at all. But here he was. Just like himself, just like he'd always been, as if he'd never been gone at all. Her own bright-eyed, blithe-laughing, gentle-hearted Airbender—her boy-in-the-iceberg, her brave Avatar, her only Aang—her best friend, her love, her greatest source of hope, worry, joy—here at last, in all his bright tranquil goodness, real again, brand-new, breathing and talking and alive, after so many long empty years of being nothing but a dream, a long-lost phantom. It was almost too much, too much happiness to handle, inundating all her senses all at once so that nothing else in the world seemed real, nothing but this.

Aang, meanwhile, just looked hopelessly lost and dizzy, as if he had no idea where or who he was.

After struggling to realign herself with gravity for a few moments, she finally planted a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and whispered, "Let's go back inside."

The suggestion seemed to somehow perplex him even more, as if he hadn't the slightest idea what she meant by the word _inside_. He furrowed his brow faintly for a second, but then—after taking another second or two to catch up to his own breathing—he just nodded quietly.

"Yeah," he exhaled, in a rather bewildered tone. "Inside—sure. Okay."

Extricating herself somewhat reluctantly from his arms, she reached back and took hold of one of his hands, knotting her fingers up with his and smiling at him with inexpressible contentment as she began to lead him slowly back towards the door of the healing house.

She had no idea where they were going, beyond simply "inside." She'd lost the capacity to think that far ahead, too absorbed in the present moment. Though part of her was indulging in some vague, blissful notion of finding a small quiet space, somewhere apart from everything and everyone, and just keeping him and all his brand-newness to herself for the rest of the day—for the rest of forever, maybe. Yet another part of her was eager to go find Tenzin—to see what Tenzin and Aang looked like together, now that he was finally awake—and to immediately start doing all those things that families did with each other, whatever those were, and spend the rest of the day (or the rest of forever) just doing that, with them. And yet another part of her wanted to take him everywhere with her, to let everyone see, to show the entire world how he was alive and he was himself and he was hers again, because she'd made it so. She wanted to do all of these things, all at once, and somehow felt that she actually could.

And indeed, as the two of them went together back inside, back into the now up and stirring healing house, Katara felt the curious eyes of some of the healers watching them as they passed by. And she clutched his hand tighter, proudly—imagining what the women would be whispering to each other about them for the rest of the morning:

_Look—did you see? That was them! The Avatar and his love.  
><em>

_So he's finally awake! So they're finally together again.  
><em>

_I heard she brought him back from the dead, after five years!_

_I heard she went all the way to the Spirit World and battled an evil spirit, just for him!_

_I heard she called down the Moon Spirit herself to bring him back to life!_

_Can you believe it? So romantic!_

_I'm telling you, that's real love._

_He must know—he has to know—that's real love, right there. No question. Surely he knows it._

He _had _to know, Katara thought, and she glanced over at him as they walked, hoping to see the confirmation of it in his face. But Aang had his eyes turned to the ground now, and he was frowning with perplexed distraction—he didn't seem aware of anything around him, and looked almost troubled.

The look on his face disappointed her a bit, and she suddenly had a rather childish urge to call him out of his thoughts and make him take notice of how everyone was looking at them—make him aware of what everyone would surely be saying about the two of them—make him admit to her now that, yes, he _knew _she loved him, there was no denying it.

But she resisted that urge, trying to maintain _some _kind of self-control, despite all her giddy excitement. At any rate, he was probably still just overwhelmed with everything, and that was why he looked so distracted. It had to be a lot to take in all at once... The thought of it, of how it must feel to have to deal with so much change so quickly, hadn't fully occurred to her until that moment, only then penetrating her fog of unrestrained bliss. And she suddenly melted a bit, nearly overcome by a potent longing to somehow magically make all his troubles instantly vanish.

She wished he would smile, at least—just that, just a little bit. Suddenly that was the only thing she wanted, for him to smile again. He always used to smile so easily. She wished she could make him, somehow.

What was bothering him? Didn't he know that he flooded her entire world with colorful life, simply by existing?

She wanted so badly to tell him—but she didn't know what words to use. There were too many, and also not enough, and she was afraid that it would come out all wrong—that it wouldn't sound the same when spoken aloud as it did inside her head.

But he must know, after all she'd done. And shouldn't that make everything else automatically cease to matter?

Well—_she _knew. She knew that she'd more than proven herself: proven that she wasn't the same selfish Katara who had quailed so pathetically at his hopeful request to spend forever with her—the cowardly Katara who had so foolishly broken his heart, taken his simple and generous love and thrown it back in his face in terror.

No. She'd done away with that Katara, for good. Now she'd proven, beyond doubt, that she really _did _want him, and she loved him more than anyone else ever could. There was no denying it now. He _had _to know. There was no way he _couldn't _know.

* * *

><p>Aang knew there was a word for the way he was feeling right now, but he couldn't think of what it was.<p>

As Katara took his hand and led him out of the cold morning air and back into the healing house, he wrestled with his muddled thoughts, trying to put his finger on it.

_Confusion?_—Well, yes. Definitely. But it was a little more than that.

Maybe something more like... _befuddlement?_—No, too silly-sounding. That wasn't it.

_Shock?_

A bit closer, maybe. But not quite befuddling enough. Or... _brutal _enough, either. Though he wasn't totally sure what he meant by that.

_Astonishment? Disbelief? Relief? Panic? Ecstatic despair? Despairing ecstasy?_

Was there a word that meant all of that, all at once, but in a violent, disorienting, head-splitting kind of way?

Maybe...

Maybe...

His skull was throbbing with a dull, numb ache. The strange unshakeable chill that had come over him in the courtyard still lingered in his bones, even after they went inside. His heart felt excited and sick...

Maybe he was just feeling a little unwell in general.

Maybe it was that gin Toph had forced him to drink. That might be part of it. It certainly wasn't helping him think any straighter, that was for sure.

_So_, he thought dizzily, _what_—_what just happened, exactly?_

He honestly wasn't sure. Nothing felt real to him right now. His startling, baffling reunion with Katara—every small detail, every fiery emotion—followed him vividly into the healing house even after it was over, haunting his head and his bones right alongside the strange chill and the sudden migraine. And his mind was bursting with other images as well, all pushing and shoving to get to the forefront, all of them disconcerting and contradictory, battling with one another in impossible ways, refusing to make any sense:

Katara, from three nights ago (or what felt like three nights to him)—her face outlined in the dim firelight of that small cave in the South Pole, smiling at him in a way that made his heart want to explode, tracing her fingers along his tattoos—filling him to the brim with hopeless passion for everything she was, everything she'd always been, everything he hoped she might be—kissing him and pulling him inside and commanding him to stop thinking so much.

Katara, from two days ago—her face plummeting at the thought of marrying him, terrified at the idea of being stuck with him forever—giving him a look that said she thought he was still a child—her eyes and her tone both demanding to know why he would even ask, why he even _wanted _to marry her, why he would just be stupid enough to assume that _she _wanted to marry _him_—crushing him and pushing him away and accusing him of not thinking enough.

Katara, from one day ago—her mouth clamping shut, refusing to speak to him, completely ignoring him, as he said good-bye. As if she wanted nothing to do with him at all anymore. As if he couldn't leave her alone fast enough.

And then Katara, from today—from right now...

The battle of his thoughts pounded viciously on the inside of his skull.

_... What happened?_

Of course he knew—though he was still having difficulty actually believing—that somewhere in there, between yesterday and today, _five years _had happened. Tenzin had happened. Koh had happened. And now it was like this.

But—

_Why?... __What_?

_What does this mean?_

Well. Clearly she'd changed her mind. Or something.

No—no, she hadn't just changed her mind. She'd _overhauled _her mind, leaping from inexplicable coldness all the way into the other extreme of total, blind, bewildering, unrestrained, unexamined, un-Katara-like _infatuation_. He certainly wasn't opposed to that—but it was... bizarre, nevertheless. It unnerved him.

So she wanted him again, for the time being. But—did that mean now that she actually wanted to marry him after all? Or... what? Or were they just going to be together, undefined? The thought of bringing up the subject again instantly filled him with sharp dread. That was what had ruined everything in the first place. But—but if he didn't bring it up, then what? Would they just stay indefinitely in this strange interim space, where they simply didn't talk about such things, where he didn't dare to bring it up because Katara precariously wanted him now and the slightest misstep might make everything go all wrong all over again?

_But maybe..._ A small hopeful thought crossed his baffled mind timidly... _Maybe—maybe that whole rejection thing was... just a fluke? Maybe I just caught her on a bad day?_

But—no. Flukes like that didn't just happen. A regular argument, her getting mad at him for something meaningless: _that_ would have been a fluke. Even the two of them taking time apart for some smaller reason: _that _would be a fluke. Not this—not her completely turning her back on him because he'd asked to marry her. That wasn't a fluke, that wasn't normal—that was a deep, revealing, foundation-breaking _problem_, indicative of something seriously, essentially wrong. The Katara who had rejected him, who'd flinched and fled at the prospect of marrying him, was still there, still lurking somewhere inside this new infatuated Katara, ready to show up again any time—maybe soon, maybe years from now—and he couldn't predict what stupid thing he might do that would trigger her reappearance, because he had no idea what he'd done wrong in the first place.

It would have made more sense to him, miserable though he would have been, if she'd greeted him more distantly now, glad that he was alive but still clearly demonstrating that she had no intention of letting him barge in permanently on the rest of her life. That would have been devastating, but at least then she would have followed the same trajectory she was already on, instead of doing such an astonishing about-face. That is, a _second _astonishing about-face.

But this... This was glorious and impossible and unreal, and it made no sense to him at all. It felt like a trick, almost. Like some kind of wish-fulfilling illusion, a too-perfect dream world he was trapped inside.

_But it's been five years for her_, he had to remind himself, again and again, trying his hardest to persuade himself to actually comprehend it. _She hasn't seen me in five years. It only seems sudden because I've been gone..._

There was something that was bothering him about that thought too, though—but he couldn't figure out what it was yet. But perhaps it would come to him eventually. Just like that word he couldn't think of.

He felt thoroughly overwhelmed, overthrown by wild excitement, frantic giddiness—but he didn't feel happy. No, it wasn't happiness. It was more an almost manic kind of ecstasy that rattled his heart and screamed in his veins: _No, d__on't fight it! Don't question it! Just stop, stop thinking! Stop thinking so much, before you ruin it again! Just stop thinking and take it_—_take it while you still have a chance, before she does another sudden about-face!_

He couldn't help it. He'd been imagining her as his future wife since he was twelve. The shock of her rejection—the crippling conclusion that she wasn't _going _to be his wife after all—was still fresh in his mind, an open wound in his heart. He couldn't help but want to grasp frantically, unquestioningly, at anything that would make that wound stop hurting, anything to kill the pain—even if it was just a wish-fulfilling illusion...

Yet he also couldn't help flinching, too, fearful to let her be so close again, terrified that she'd only make the wound worse—terrified that it really _was _just some kind of trick, and he was falling for it. He almost wanted to run away—to run away from her and from everything, and be by himself for a long time until he had a chance to recover. It was the same panicked urge for self-preservation that had tempted him to flee earlier, when Sokka had first begun to explain everything to him: to flee from the city and hide out in the wild frozen tundra, where no one would find him, where he could pretend it had all never happened.

But he couldn't flee now. Katara was holding his hand too tight.

He still couldn't understand it—_any _of it. In fact, his confusion was much worse now than it had been before. And he couldn't get his thoughts working right, to try to sort it out. His mind couldn't get anything done properly—not while he was still so disoriented from the shock of his awakening, and the barrage of other changes that he'd been pummeled with almost nonstop over the entire past hour. The shock of suddenly having a five-year old son (conceived three days ago)—the shock of discovering that he was no longer alone, no longer the last Airbender, but his people were forever out of reach and didn't want him—the shock of instantly skipping five whole years of his life. And the unfathomable awareness—only just now really beginning to hit him—that if not for Katara, he'd still be lost right now, faceless, somewhere in the Spirit World, _forever_. He knew it was true, but it didn't feel real. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Nevertheless, the thought of it only overwhelmed him more—with baffled, amazed gratefulness and simmering admiration for her—and then with a strange, inexplicable, hopeless feeling of inadequacy—and then with somehow even more panic and confusion about her unpredictable oscillating feelings towards him, with terror and dismal certainty that it was all going to go wrong again, anytime now, and this time it would be even worse because she'd saved him, because she was so much more than he could ever hope to be enough for, because he'd let himself get caught by her again despite his misgivings, and she was holding his hand so tightly now, as if she'd never let him go, _ever_, and right now all he could really manage to think clearly about was the way she'd gazed at him in the courtyard, the way she'd glowed simply at the sound of his voice, the way she'd demolished him with her sudden relentless affection, the way she was twining her fingers between his right now, the way she made him want nothing else in the world except to disappear with her immediately and spend the rest of forever reliving their night together in that cave, in the firelight, again and again and again, pretending that the crushing heartbreak of the day after never happened at all.

Strangely, as he and Katara meandered together into the healing house and down the lower hall on their way to... (who knew where? where were they going? what would happen now?)... and as all his thoughts flashed through his mind at a frenzied speed, a thousand for each step he took—all contradictory, bouncing back and forth, up and down—he felt the curious eyes of some of the healing women watching them as they passed, and he instantly dropped his eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the stares, feeling oddly embarrassed to be seen with her suddenly—but not because of _her_. She was just fine; she was perfect. No, it was something to do with himself, contrasting with her: a strange dread that they'd think he somehow didn't belong with her.

And Katara suddenly clutched his hand tighter—_defensively_, he thought, though he didn't know why exactly he thought it.

What was wrong now? Why did he feel so self-conscious with her suddenly, now that other people were looking at them? Was it because—because, if not for her, he'd still be trapped in the Spirit World right now, his face still in Koh's clutches—because she'd done something impossible for him, and he could never do anything to repay her for that?

No, that wasn't it... Was it because he'd abandoned them, her and Tenzin, for such a long time?—even though he hadn't meant to. He hadn't meant to. But they'd still suffered in his absence, and he could never make up for that either... Was that it? Would everyone else, all the healers staring at the two of them, would they all be thinking: _Well, he's finally back. Only five years too late, that's all. I'm surprised she thought he was worth waiting that long for._

Aang cringed bitterly, reflexively, at that thought. But no—that wasn't really it either. Maybe it partially was, but there was something else. He glanced at Katara walking beside him, and suddenly it hit him.

It was because she was older. She was older—but he wasn't. At least, he didn't feel like he was.

He'd noticed before how she'd changed, how she'd aged, when he'd first seen her back in the courtyard. But now he looked at her more carefully, out of the corner of his eye, noticing again: she looked so exactly like she always had, and yet—yet, even still, she certainly wasn't the eighteen year old girl he'd left behind the day before. She was a twenty-three year old woman, and a mother—and it showed. There was an aura of experience about her that she hadn't had before: five long, difficult years had settled into her overnight. They hadn't diminished her beauty at all—in fact, he thought, if anything she was more beautiful than ever. But her age was unmistakeable. And meanwhile, he still felt that he himself hadn't aged a bit.

The change hadn't bothered him before, in the courtyard, because no one had been looking at them then—and anyway, he'd been too bewildered and overwhelmed at that moment to think about much else other than that she was beautiful and she confused him and she was going to hurt him and she was the only thing he wanted... But now, the awareness of her age—and the awareness that others could see it, too—made him feel as if she'd passed him up and left him behind.

Of course, he'd always been younger than her. But the two-year difference had never bothered him (or her, as far as he knew). But now... Would other people somehow see it? Would they look at the two of them, side by side, and think that they didn't match?

Aang fought to push those anxieties out of his head, struggling to remind himself yet again that _he _had also changed—he _wasn't _sixteen anymore, even if he felt like he was. He was _growing a beard_, for crying out loud. No one would see the difference, not on the outside. Not anymore than they'd see that technically he was a hundred and twenty-one now...

That thought sidetracked him for a moment, made him feel dizzy again.

_Wait_—_so I'm sixteen, but inside a twenty-one year old's body, which is actually a hundred and twenty-one years old...?_

His head throbbed. Why couldn't his mind and body just pick one age and _stay _there? Why was time bullying him like this? It really wasn't funny.

"Aang?"

Katara's voice beckoned him out of the mire of his thoughts, in a rather playful, sing-song tone, as if she were calling to an amusingly distracted child.

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze uncertainly, blinking and feeling rather embarrassed about his own thoughts. She was probing him with a curious stare, smiling gently.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her blue eyes piercing him as if she longed to see straight into the depths of his mind.

He swallowed a bit, hesitating, and then shrugged awkwardly. "Um... nothing."

For a moment he saw faint disappointment stirring in her gaze—but she sighed, and squeezed his hand tighter.

"Okay," she finally whispered, with a gentle look of supplication. "But... cheer up, okay? Don't look so sad. You used to always be so happy in the mornings."

_Don't be confused... Don't look so sad... _Aang wondered how many other commands she was going to give him this morning that he wouldn't be able to obey.

"Uh—sorry," he mumbled confusedly. "I just—have a lot on my mind, I guess."

"But you just said you weren't thinking about anything?" Her eyes laughed at him quietly.

"Oh." He blinked, and shook his head hastily, feeling foolish again. "Right. I did say that, huh?"

He meant to say something else, to offer an explanation for his awkward contradiction, feeling an urgent need to explain himself—but he didn't know what he actually meant to say—and he was pretty sure that it wasn't really necessary anyway, that Katara wasn't actually expecting him to explain.

She watched him closely, keeping silent for a few moments because he looked like he had something to say. But after a few seconds, when he still hadn't managed to say anything, she suddenly gave him a gentle, evocative smile that instantly turned his heart inside out. And then she unaccountably lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers with leisurely, almost indulgent tenderness. It was a strange, startling gesture that threw him off balance at once; he couldn't remember her ever really doing anything like that before—at least, not so out of nowhere, without warning or reason.

Then suddenly it came to him—

_Whiplash!_

That was the word he was trying to think of. That was how he was feeling. Yes, that summed it all up pretty nicely, actually.

* * *

><p>They were ambushed as they wandered up to the second floor—by Tenzin, naturally, who was still overflowing with energetic excitement. He and Little Ursa had been doing their best to help spread the already-spreading news that Avatar Aang was awake amongst all the healing ladies who had been doting on them for the past few days. And when Tenzin came blustering up to his parents again he was laden with more seaweed cookies, as well as a handful of his own scribbly drawings.<p>

"Daddy! Daddy, look!" he cried eagerly, his mouth full of half a cookie, as he fumbled through his artwork to pick out the one he thought would impress his father the most. "See? I made this! You have to look at it! D'you want a cookie? Miss Yugoda has lots of them! Look, look—do you like it?"

Aang, ripped violently from his whiplash-stupor by Tenzin's sudden assault, could only blink at the boy blankly for a second—still stunned at hearing the word "daddy" applied to himself—but then a faint, dazed, yet irrepressible smile slowly crossed his features as he took the proffered drawing from Tenzin's hands. And Katara glowed, glad to see him smile again and brimming with unbearable delight at seeing Tenzin and Aang interact: Tenzin finally getting to show his drawings to his father, and Aang finally getting to see. She brushed her hand along Aang's back and leaned against his shoulder as he examined Tenzin's drawing, letting her own eyes wander over it as well (though she'd seen it already), wondering again what Aang was thinking—hoping he was as proud of Tenzin as she'd always imagined he would be.

It was a depiction of Appa, large and round and outlined with exaggerated zigzags for fur, flying through a sky of bulbous clouds with a bright smile on his bison face. Riding on top of him were three human figures—two large, and one small—all smiling the same bright smile that Appa wore. The smallest figure, distinguished simply by a sloppy tuft of black hair, was standing on the very end of Appa's tail somehow, with squiggly spirals coming out of his hands (Airbending, presumably). The first of the two taller figures, standing in Appa's saddle, was drawn with long flowing hair that went almost to her feet, and very prominent hair loopies; she had spouts of waving lines bursting from her hands like a fountain (Waterbending, of course). And Aang recognized the other tall figure as himself, standing on Appa's forehead: the figure with the oddly long limbs and exaggeratedly large ears and, of course, a very carefully drawn arrow on his head. He, like the little Tenzin-figure, was squigglebending, with curling air-spirals bursting from his hands. Aang assumed that Tenzin must have made this drawing very recently, because he'd gone through the trouble of adding some extra shading to the Aang-figure's head and face, indicating his newly growing hair.

"D'you like it?" Tenzin asked again, growing anxious when Aang took more than a second to confirm his approval.

Aang just laughed—he couldn't help it. It erupted out of him uncontrollably, partly out of genuine amusement, partly out of the incredible wonder that the drawing and its artist even _existed_, and partly out of that wild, manic, giddy-but-unhappy ecstasy that had been racing through his veins nonstop since his reunion with Katara in the courtyard. Yet something distinctly and deeply sorrowful tore at his heart, even in the midst of his laughter: bittersweet remorse that the most he'd done in Tenzin's life thus far was to be a big-eared stick figure who showed up occasionally in his artwork.

Tenzin's bright eyes wavered when Aang laughed—uncertain if Aang was laughing because he liked the drawing, or because he thought it was silly. _Silly_ had certainly not been Tenzin's artistic intention.

"It's, um—that's—it's great," Aang finally stammered, tripping awkwardly over his laughter and his disorientation and his grief-stained amusement. "It's really, really great... I like Appa's smiley face."

Tenzin beamed bright enough to illuminate the entire house. He looked so absurdly happy that Katara couldn't help laughing at him herself.

"But—" Aang went on, furrowing his brow at the drawing, though he was still grinning bemusedly and rippling with aching chuckles. "Why am I the only one with ears?"

Tenzin flushed a bit, and immediately sprang forward to defend his work, reaching up on tiptoes to grab Aang's arm and pull the drawing back down to his own level so he could look at it. Aang knelt so that the two of them could examine it together, and Tenzin studied the drawing carefully, scrunching his brow gravely, as if he had no idea what this ear_-_nonsense was that Aang was referring to.

"Oh, _that_," he said in a business-like tone, pointing at the Aang-figure's very noticeable round ears. "Well... you _do _have ears like that! But Momma doesn't. It wouldn't make sense to draw her ears. You usually can't even see her ears 'cause of all her hair. See, look!"

He pointed at his real-life mother, directing Aang's gaze back up to her to confirm his statement. Katara was standing by quietly, beaming unreservedly at the two of them. And when Aang's eyes obligingly followed Tenzin's command and turned up to meet hers, something in his look immediately made her face blaze and her heart flutter.

Aang gazed distractedly at her and her lack of prominent ears for a second—then turned his eyes back to the drawing and the little boy. "Yeah, okay. You're right about her ears... But what about _yours?_"

"Mine aren't important," Tenzin said dismissively, with logic that was too perplexing to argue with. Then he snatched the drawing out of Aang's hands abruptly, no longer satisfied that it was his best work, and began rummaging through the others in his pile. "Look, daddy, look at this one! See, this is when you saved the North Pole with Princess Yue—that's you inside the giant water-monster, and that's Princess Yue flying up to the moon—Momma told me the story. I tried to draw it like she said but it was really hard to make your eyes and arrows look all glowy... And this one is when Momma and Uncle Sokka found you in the big iceberg. Ursa said she thought it looked like you were stuck inside a weird cloud, but it's supposed to be an iceberg... And this one is a picture of everyone, all together. See, there's _you_, and that's _me_—" He pointed at each figure in the drawing as he spoke, though Aang probably could have figured most of them out on his own—"That's Momma. And Appa. And that's Zuko, and Ursa, and Uncle Iroh and Grandma Ursa, and Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki and Auntie Toph and Yonten—"

"Where's Momo?" Aang asked, grinning softly at him.

"Ah! Wait!" Tenzin cried in dismay, taking the drawing back and searching it intently, as if perhaps Momo was simply hiding in there somewhere. "I forgot Momo!"

"How could you forget Momo?" Katara laughed.

"Well," Aang chuckled quietly, standing up straight again, "don't feel too bad. You're already a better artist than Sokka."

"Hey!" Sokka's voice shouted in protest from down the corridor, as he and Suki came wandering toward them. "That's not nice! I work _really _hard!"

Little Ursa appeared then, scurrying past Sokka and Suki, who were walking a little too slowly for her liking, and she raced up to Tenzin, tugging on his sleeve.

"Hey, you seen my dad?" she demanded breathlessly, then turned her eyes up at Katara and Aang before Tenzin had a chance to reply. "Aunt Tara! Have you seen my dad?"

Katara furrowed her brow. It somehow felt as if days and weeks had passed since she'd last seen Zuko—since the two of them had walked together to Aang's room and found it empty. But she knew it could have only been a few minutes.

"Uh, no," she said slowly. "I don't know where he went, sweetie. But I'm sure he's around here somewhere—"

"Hey, Avatar Aang!" Ursa shouted brightly, changing focus with astonishing rapidity—apparently not _very _concerned about her father's whereabouts. "You've got to come say hi to Uncle and Grandma! They're up now—I woke them up and told them you were awake!"

"Oh." Aang frowned in bewilderment. It took a second for his scattered brain to translate "Grandma" to "Zuko's mother"—the _other _Ursa, the original one. Right. Zuko had found his mother. Sokka and Suki said that before. He'd almost forgotten it in the whirlwind of other shocking things that had been bombarding him all morning. The girl's casual reference to her grandmother startled him a bit too, since last he knew Zuko's mother had been nothing but a mystery, a long-vanished ghost of a person. He shook himself, overwhelmed once more with the deluge of changes he had to get used to, and aching with another sharp twinge of regret for everything that he'd missed out on.

"Yeah—okay, sure," he nodded, feeling dizzy and cold again, and also strangely nervous about meeting Zuko's mother—perhaps simply because she hadn't actually existed for such a long time. But then, he guessed, he hadn't either.

"We should have some breakfast," Sokka suggested, stretching himself. "I'm starving."

"We can all eat breakfast together!" Tenzin cried excitedly, taking hold of Aang's free hand, while Katara continued to clutch the other one. "We'll eat all together—and then we'll go outside and I can show you my Airbending, daddy! You want to see it, right?"

"Oh! Ye—"

"Avatar Aang," Ursa interrupted, with a rather shy smile up at him, "should I call you 'Avatar Aang,' or is that too fancy? Should I just call you 'Aang'? Or is that weird?—No, _Uncle Aang! _Can I call you 'Uncle Aang'?"

"Uh, I—?"

"Daddy, are you gonna teach me Airbending? Am I gonna get arrows like you? Can I have my own glider? You'll let me, right? And we can fly on gliders together!"

"Well—"

"_Uncle Aang_"—Ursa snickered at the phrase as it came out of her mouth—"I dunno, that still sounds funny. D'you think it sounds funny, Uncle Aang? I think it does."

"Can we go exploring today, daddy?" Tenzin was swinging Aang's hand vigorously in rhythm with his chatter as they walked. "Can we fly on Appa and go somewhere fun today?"

"Ooh!" Ursa interjected eagerly. "Can we go see the big wall?!"

"Yeah!" Tenzin cried, hopping with excitement. "Can we, daddy? Can we? We haven't got to go there yet!"

"Can I come too?" Ursa begged. "And my dad? And Uncle and Grandma? Can we all go? _Please?_"

Aang's head was throbbing again, the thudding pulse suddenly compounding in its viciousness as he felt himself inundated by all the bewildering chaos of the unreal world around him. Another bizarre chill rippled through him, and for half a second he blinked—and _blinked_—with the eerie feeling that faint, inky spots were blurring his vision, like barely-glimpsed phantoms. But the feeling vanished so quickly that he almost wondered if he'd just imagined it. Nevertheless, he stopped walking and pulled his hand away from Katara's and pressed his fingers into his eyelids for a moment, just breathing.

"What's wrong, daddy?" Tenzin cried worriedly.

"Uncle Aang, what's the matter?" Ursa frowned, simultaneously.

"Aang?" Katara spoke his name softly, with mild concern, and he felt her hand on his cheek, turning his face toward her. "Are you okay?"

He nodded quickly, feeling strangely unsettled—and suddenly seized by a defensive aversion to letting her fuss over him. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'm fine."

She still looked slightly anxious, frowning a bit. "You know, we don't have to go eat breakfast with the others," she whispered, so that only he would hear. "You can say hi to everyone later, if you're not feeling up to—"

But he just shook his head quickly again. "No, really, it's fine," he insisted, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I'm okay."

His smile must have been reassuring enough—either that, or she was just very eager to believe that he _was _okay—because after studying him for another brief moment, she smiled back quietly and nodded. "All right. Just making sure."

"Hey!" Sokka came trotting back around the corner ahead of them, pointing at Katara and Aang. "Are you two coming to breakfast?"

"We'll be there in a second, Sokka," Katara called. Then she glanced at the children. "Tenzin, Ursa—you guys run on ahead with Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki, okay? We'll be right behind you."

The children ran off. And just at that moment, Aang felt a rather timid tug at his elbow. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Zuko, who looked decidedly stiff and discomfited.

"Hey, Aang." He shoved his hands forcefully into his pockets. "Could we talk?"

Katara darted a startled glance back at Zuko, caught off guard by his sudden appearance—and an uncontrollable look of panic crossed her features, against her will. But Aang didn't notice her reaction; he simply gaped at Zuko in surprise.

"Well—_hey_ there, Zuko," he stammered, slightly flabbergasted by Zuko's curt greeting, considering that this was the first he'd seen of Zuko all morning—and the first Zuko had spoken to him in _five years_. "It's... good to see you too?"

"Oh!—right. Yeah, sorry. Glad to see you're—up and talking and stuff." Zuko looked rather abashed for a moment, and scratched his head awkwardly. "Sorry. How, uh... how are you?"

Aang paused, glancing briefly at Katara—who was staring at him anxiously, but he had no idea what to make of her expression—then he shrugged at Zuko, with a weary sigh. "Uh—fine. I'm fine." He mustered the most lighthearted chuckle he could manage. "So where have you been hiding all morning?"

"I haven't been hiding!" Zuko protested defensively.

Aang blinked at him, taken aback, and then chuckled again—more uneasily this time. "Oh... Okay? Sorry."

"I really need to talk to you," Zuko insisted urgently, and his eyes shifted uncertainly toward Katara. "Do you have a minute?"

But before Aang could answer, a loud booming voice burst cheerfully into the corridor behind him.

"_So he's finally awake! It's about time!_"

A moment later, Aang was seized from behind in a crushing bear-hug from Iroh, who continued laughing merrily even as he squeezed every ounce of air of out Aang's lungs.

"_Oohf—_hi, Uncle!" Aang gasped in surprise.

When Iroh released him, Aang tottered dizzily, and Iroh held him by the shoulders to steady him, turning him around to get a good look at him.

"It's good to see you up again, my boy!" Iroh beamed at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Well—"

"Ursa, come over here!" Iroh shouted over his shoulder, too impatient to wait for Aang's reply. "Come meet our Avatar!"

The woman herself appeared a moment later—Zuko's mother, looking just the way Aang recalled from the many times he'd seen her portrait in Zuko's home, but with streaks of gray in her long dark hair, and more age in the creases of her face. She smiled at Aang rather bashfully, as if she felt the same odd shyness about meeting Aang that he'd felt about meeting her.

"Zuko!" Iroh turned to his nephew, who looked rather peeved at being interrupted in his attempt to talk to Aang. But Iroh didn't seem to notice Zuko's ire, or care. "Why don't you do the honors?"

Zuko shook his head, exasperated, and massaged his forehead for a second. "Um—sure—all right," he muttered hastily, then looked at Aang, gesturing to the elder Ursa. "Aang, this is... this is my mom. You remember?"

"Yeah—yeah, of course," Aang stumbled, also shaking his head to readjust his addled mind. Then he reached out his hand to Zuko's mother, with a gracious smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Princess Ursa."

She shook his hand, bowing her head slightly. "It's nice to finally meet _you_, Avatar Aang," she replied, smiling softly. Then she frowned a bit at him, hesitantly. "Although—that's so formal. I suppose I should just call you 'Aang,' shouldn't I?"

Aang blinked at her for a moment—then rippled with laughter, teeming with that same manic giddiness as before, unable to stop himself: the fact that he'd been asked essentially the same question, by two different Ursas, just in the past five minutes or so, was too much.

"Yeah, sure," he laughed helplessly, feeling like he was losing his mind a little bit. "You can even call me 'Uncle Aang,' if you want."

Ursa furrowed her brow at him, thoroughly mystified. But Iroh interrupted before Aang had a chance to explain himself.

"So I hear there is a breakfast going on somewhere around here!" he grinned eagerly. "You three are going to join us, I assume?"

"Well," Katara said uncertainly, "we were going to, but..." She trailed off, gazing questioningly at Aang and Zuko.

"Aang, I _really _need to talk to you," Zuko insisted quietly.

"Okay, well," Aang shrugged at him, too overwhelmed to really think properly about anything. "We can talk at breakfast, I guess, right—?"

Zuko was about to protest, but Uncle came around and clapped him jovially on the back.

"Don't look so grim, Zuko!" he chuckled. "This is a happy occasion! Come along—let's all go enjoy a lovely breakfast together, and we can catch Aang up on everything he's missed!"

* * *

><p>They had breakfast in the same fountain chamber where, only an hour ago, Sokka had informed Aang that he'd had his face stolen and had missed the last five years of his life. Everyone was there—everyone, that is, except for Toph and Yonten. No one had any idea where either of them had disappeared to, or what on earth they were doing, wherever they were.<p>

"Oh, I bet _I_ can guess what they're doing!" Sokka snickered deviously, and proceeded to wrap his arms intimately around himself and make exaggerated smooching noises—eliciting a giggle and a playful shove from Suki.

No one let Toph and Yonten's absence worry them much, though—except, perhaps, the elder Ursa, who remained somewhat distracted wondering where her almost-son had run off to; and meanwhile, she was otherwise distracted by her _actual _son, who remained utterly silent throughout the meal and barely ate a thing, merely stewing in his own dark cloud of unhappy distraction. Ursa wasn't entirely sure what was troubling Zuko so deeply; but she sensed it, nevertheless; and she thought perhaps it was simply the way that Katara sat so near to the newly-awakened Avatar, the way she kept her fingers so tightly entwined with his throughout the meal, the way she leaned against his shoulder and refused to take her eyes off him. Whatever Zuko was fixated on, whatever was causing him distress, she felt it too, and it worried her. But she felt powerless to do anything to alleviate his pain—and that troubled her heart more deeply than anything.

But aside from the elder Ursa's worries, Aang found himself naturally the focus of the group's attention. Tenzin and Little Ursa continued to chatter his ear off throughout breakfast; that they somehow never managed to run out of things to say was rather astonishing. And in the meantime, Sokka began to gleefully reminisce about all their old adventures, with many an eye-roll from Suki thrown in for good measure. And Uncle also eagerly began to tell Aang some of the details of their recent journey to the North Pole—though, after a while, Uncle began to speak less and less, and eventually just took to studying Aang carefully while the others chatted. And the elder Ursa, like her son, barely spoke at all throughout the entire meal, except to modestly beg not to have to tell her own story for Aang's benefit just yet. She, too, eventually began to study Aang now and then out of the corner of her eye. And both she and Uncle seemed to see something that the others—the hyperactive children, the brooding Zuko, the nostalgic Sokka and Suki, and the besotted Katara—could not.

* * *

><p>Aang felt tired, and unwell, and it only grew worse the longer the meal went on, the more the noise compounded. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have minded at all—in fact, ordinarily, he would have enjoyed himself immensely. Being the center of attention was a common state of affairs for him, and usually he was more than comfortable with it. And he <em>was <em>happy to see everyone (or mostly everyone) all together again, laughing and chatting and enjoying life with one another in a way that they hadn't done in a long time, even for him.

And yet—his head was still throbbing—and he still couldn't dispel that perplexing chill in his bones—and everything had changed—and nothing felt real.

And he couldn't think. He couldn't think straight.

And Katara was sitting quietly beside him, her fingers brushing against his hand. And he could feel her eyes wandering to him, lingering on him, all the while. And he wondered and wondered what she was thinking.

* * *

><p>Katara got the feeling that Aang really would have preferred to be away from everyone for a little while, despite his insistence that he was fine. As for her, though she enjoyed the company of the others, and thoroughly savored the pleasure of seeing Aang part of the group again after such a long time—she honestly would have preferred some isolation as well. She felt no motivation whatsoever to join in the conversation: she was far too distracted, still reeling with the raw satisfaction of just having Aang there with her again.<p>

It was difficult for her not to simply stare at him. She tried to keep her eyes under control, wary of overwhelming him, of seeming like a silly, smitten child—but after a while she just gave up the struggle and allowed herself to simply watch him. To simply watch and listen, hungrily absorbing his presence, immersing herself in the familiar glow of his eyes and the familiar texture of his voice when he spoke to the others, feeling as if she could never get enough.

_Exactly the same as always. Just like himself._

He _had _changed, though. He was older now, of course; but she'd been monitoring him so closely for the past three or four days that the changes had already become familiar to her—even his newly-growing facial hair (though she still hadn't quite decided if she liked it or not). But right now, it wasn't all the ways he was different that drew her gaze; it was all the ways that, after all this time, he was still just exactly the same, and even the alterations in his appearance became easily his own once he was up and talking and being himself and being alive.

Did he know?—she found herself wondering again. Did he know all he was to her now? She still yearned to tell him—she _had _to. The feeling of it, the realness of it, was nearly erupting from her, desperate to escape. But she didn't know how to let it go: it was too much to express. So she simply squeezed his hand tighter, hoping that he'd understand through the simple earnestness of her gesture.

* * *

><p>After a while, Aang became aware that Katara's eyes had fastened themselves intensely on him. He could feel them staring, never wavering, and it made his heart stumble uneasily.<p>

What was she thinking? What was she looking at? What was she looking _for?_

It wasn't just that she was looking—it was more than that. She was devouring him with her eyes, and he could feel it, and he sensed that she was either unwilling or unable to look away until she'd had her fill.

He didn't dare meet her voracious gaze. He wasn't sure he could handle it right now. Even just feeling it lurk in his peripheral vision made his stomach knot fretfully and his blood simmer in his veins.

Not for the first time since he'd woken up, Aang was feeling more and more like some thrilling novelty or an exciting new toy, rather than a person.

_What is she looking for? What does she _want?

What if he wasn't able to give it to her, whatever it was?

How could he give her what she wanted when he didn't even know what it was?

She suddenly squeezed his hand tighter, in a quiet spasm of some insistent emotion that was trying to erupt out of her. His heart faltered again. And once more he got the strange feeling, confusedly giddy and giddily helpless and helplessly confused, that—at least for the time being—she had no intention of ever letting him out of her grasp ever again.

Half of him—wounded, ensnared and panicking—wanted to wrench himself free and fly far away from her and everything else immediately.

And the other half of him—also panicking—wanted to cling to her hand with all his might and beg her at all costs to hold onto him and not let him fly away.

Either way, he was panicking. But he refused to let it rise to the surface.

* * *

><p>Tenzin managed to scarf down his breakfast twice as fast as everyone else, and once he was done he immediately ran off and returned a few moments later with more of his drawings to show Aang. Aang did his best to muster the same level of appreciative interest in each one—but it was wearying and difficult, the more his head began to pound with other distracting troubles and anxieties, and the more the desire to flee began to usurp all his other thoughts.<p>

However, one drawing, hidden at the bottom of the pile, caught his interest immediately, just as breakfast was finally drawing to a close.

"What's this one?" he asked, taking the corner of it and pulling it out from under all the others.

Tenzin saw what it was and suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if he'd forgotten that one was in there. "Oh," he stammered. "I don't—that one's not very good..."

Aang stared at it, his heart stirring in strange ways.

It looked like a grassy island, with a round pond in the center. Two fish shapes—one black, one white—were swimming in the middle of the pond, and the water of the pond was bubbling upward, as if it were trying to rise into the air. Meanwhile, lying flat in the grass was a tall figure that he knew at once was meant to be himself, from seeing himself depicted in many of Tenzin's other drawings. The Aang-figure looked asleep, all his limbs spread out on the ground. And sitting atop the listless Aang-figure was a Katara-figure, also drawn in Tenzin's usual style, with exaggerated hair loopies. She appeared to be pulling two wavy jets of water out of the pond, pushing them into the Aang-figure's chest—two streams of teardrops were cascading from her eyes—and Tenzin had also drawn her with a halo of little lines around her, as if she were glowing. And above her, hovering in the air, was another female figure in a long flowing dress, reaching out to put her hands on the Katara-figure's shoulders. Hanging above the floating girl was a large round shape: the moon.

Katara, who'd been leaning on his shoulder and drifting off into a light doze, overcome at last by her long lack of sleep, suddenly opened her eyes and saw the drawing that Aang was staring at. Her heart pounded a little—she hadn't seen that one before, and she was rather surprised that Tenzin had chosen to try to depict that terrible scene.

"What, um..." Aang murmured, his voice cracking slightly, as he furrowed his brow at the drawing. "What do you mean it's not good, Tenzin?"

Tenzin blushed a little, shrugging. "I dunno."

Aang was staring very hard at it, in complete silence now, and Katara sat up and watched him closely, wondering if he understood it.

"That's—that's supposed to be Yue," she finally spoke up timidly, pointing at the floating girl in the picture, and beginning to turn a little red herself.

Aang just stared for another moment or two, then nodded faintly. "Yeah, I—I thought maybe it was..." His voice drifted off, and at last he glanced at her, his eyes brimming with some indescribable emotion. "So, is this...? This is _real_, right? I mean...?"

Katara gazed at him, and her mouth broke into a quiet smile.

"... It's you saving me?"

She nodded slowly, feeling almost a little embarrassed. "Me and Yue. Yeah."

"But—so..." He shook his head, again turning his eyes back to the drawing. "So—was I...? I mean—what happened?"

"You, uh—well, you were... you were _gone_. For a few minutes there."

"I was?"

"I—I thought that was it. We all did." Her voice strained a bit, struggling against the haunting emotional turmoil of that dreadful moment. "I really thought that—after everything with Koh and all, you were just... And it was all over, just like that. And you'd never..." She bit her lip, breathing slowly. "But—but Yue helped. She helped me bring you back."

His eyes were still fixated on the drawing, as if he'd been bewitched by it. He didn't say another word for a few moments; when he finally did speak again, his voice was soft, rather husky, pushing its way through thick layers of remorse and wonder and gratitude.

"So," he sighed, in a soft, bewildered voice. "You've—I guess that means you've brought me back from the dead _twice _now, huh? Literally."

A very small, quiet laugh burst out of her—completely out of nervous modesty and intense, bittersweet exhaustion, rather than any trace of amusement.

"Yeah... I guess so." She exhaled, beaming rather shyly, and then added with another small, tired chuckle, "Don't—don't make me do it again, okay?"

"Okay. I'll... I'll do my best."

And she caressed his fingers again—and once more felt herself nearly ready to burst with everything she wanted to tell him, but didn't know how to: that he shouldn't even exist right now, yet somehow he did, and that one small conundrum was enough to consume her and shatter her and nourish her, forever. That he was an impossibility made possible, and that was all he needed to be to make her happy—that was more than enough.

He turned back to her, just gazing at her in quiet amazement.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice only a strained whisper.

For a moment, the two of them merely absorbed one another through their eyes. And then, for the first time that morning, Aang gave her a genuine smile (small though it was), entirely untainted by worry or confusion or sadness of any kind. And for the first time that morning, for that one brief, fleeting instant, Aang felt himself fixed and well again, able just to simply love her without fear, just the way he always had before: sharp and deep, and far more important than any of his painful doubts, because she'd given him his life back and he couldn't afford to waste it with doubts as long as she was here. He lifted his hand and brushed it softly across her cheek.

She glowed, melting instantly, her face growing warm from the way he was looking at her; but her bright eyes eagerly held his gaze.

"You're, um..." she stammered clumsily, heart pounding. "You're welcome."

Overflowing, he kissed her gently, and she tilted into it, leaning against his shoulder. He kissed her longer than he'd planned to, slow and soft and quiet, with his fingers in her hair, a little unable to make himself stop; and she rested tranquilly in it, simmering sharply, savoring it with all her might. When he did finally attempt to pull away, she didn't allow him to, instead curling her arm serenely around his neck and refusing to let it be over just yet. And so they ended up peacefully lingering for several long moments just like that, together, blazing gently, forgetting all else in the universe. And for once—just that _once_—it was all actually okay.

But, of course, the universe inevitably interjected to make its presence known again—this time, in the form of Sokka:

"Hey, come on, guys. Not in front of the children."

Katara and Aang, suddenly remembering that they were not, in fact, alone, reluctantly untangled themselves, wandering begrudgingly back to the present reality. Katara sighed in exasperation and sent Sokka a rather irritable glare.

"And by that, you mean not in front of _you?_" she retorted, raising her eyebrows at him with a facetious smirk.

"Ye—_No!... _Well?" he faltered, going through a sequence of accompanying gestures as he did so: a happy nod, a startled frown, and finally an awkward shrug of concession. "Well—yes. Actually. I forgot how much you two gross me out—"

Suki instantly gave him a violent punch in the arm.

"_Ow!_ What?" he cried, wincing and rubbing his arm. "No, I'm really, _really _happy for you guys! Really! But—you give me the oogies, I'm sorry."

"Oogies!" Suki laughed, rolling her eyes. "When was the last time you used that word, Sokka? When you were eight?"

"Eigh_teen_, actually," he glowered at her indignantly, still massaging his sore arm. "It's a good word!"

"Oh, grow up, Sokka." Katara also rolled her eyes, still feeling irritated at him. "You kiss Suki in front of _me_ all the time, and I never complain."

"Uh, yeah. But I'm not _your _little sister. And Suki's _definitely _not Aang."

Both Aang and Katara simply gaped at him in bewilderment then, unsure how to respond to that. Katara furrowed her brow and shot an inquisitive glance at Aang, to see if _he_'d many any more sense of it than she had. But Aang just frowned at her and shrugged.

At last, Katara turned back to Sokka, shaking her head. "You know, Sokka," she said, "everything about what you just said was absolutely correct. Yet it still didn't make any sense at all."

Suki grinned. "That's called 'Sokka Logic.'"

Sokka nodded solemnly. "_Learn _it."

They spoke these last two sentences with barely repressed glee, as if they'd just been waiting for the right moment to do so. Aang chuckled at them. "Have you guys been rehearsing that?"

"We _so _have!" Sokka nodded, grinning. Then he groaned, rubbed his arm again, and frowned at Suki. "Also—seriously, babe, you're as bad as Toph. I'm pretty sure that's gonna bruise."

"Don't be a wimp, hon."

Meanwhile, Katara looked around the group and realized that Zuko was gone—he'd vanished, some time while she'd been preoccupied with Aang. A sharp sting of guilt instantly pierced her heart at the realization: she'd forgotten to remember he was there, he was still watching them, and he must still be hurting. She'd forgotten how cruel it must be, to him, to have to merely sit by and watch. The urge to go and find him, to apologize somehow, to undo whatever pain she'd accidentally caused him, nearly drove her to leave then too—but her need to stay with Aang, her reluctance to let go of his hand or have him out of her sight, kept her planted.

Nevertheless, her eyes darted anxiously toward the elder Ursa, without her consciously willing them to do so, and she saw that the older woman was also watching her and Aang, with a mournful, inscrutable frown. But as soon as Katara's eyes wandered in her direction, Ursa dropped her own gaze rather ashamedly down to the half-empty bowl in her hands, and a mortified flush passed across her face. And the blade of Katara's guilt twisted deeper—and she felt rather miserable and almost angry that she couldn't simply enjoy Aang's presence, or express her gladness to have him there, without unintentionally causing someone else pain.

"Could I keep this drawing, Tenzin?" she heard Aang ask beside her, and in her distraction he sounded far away.

Tenzin, who'd seated himself beside Little Ursa, and was currently giggling quietly at something she was whispering in his ear, suddenly looked up at Aang in surprise, and then wordlessly nodded, with a small, bashful grin.

"What are you two whispering about?" Katara asked the children curiously. Tenzin and Ursa both immediately turned bright red.

"Nothing!" Little Ursa said quickly, flashing an innocent smile at Katara and Aang.

But Tenzin lacked her restraint—and he'd been bursting to ask this question all morning. Abruptly, loudly, he blurted out: "Are you guys gonna get married today?"

A very sudden silence descended at once over the company.

Everyone's eyes turned in unison to Aang and Katara, and each separate gaze pierced them with different inflections. Little Ursa looked embarrassed at Tenzin's lack of tact, but nevertheless hopeful and impatient to hear the answer to the question. Grandma Ursa merely looked curious, and anxious, and slightly uncertain about how she ought to feel. Iroh also looked hopeful, but in a much more subdued way than Little Ursa, and his optimism was tempered with grave doubt and mild concern. Suki looked rather abashed on Tenzin's behalf, and also a little anxious. But Sokka's face fell into a severe, dread-filled grimace, and he stared very hard at Aang specifically, begging him with his eyes not to freak out, or overreact, or underreact, or do any other potentially disastrous thing.

Katara, meanwhile, blushed violently and gaped at Tenzin, who was of course staring at the two of them with bright, expectant eagerness.

And Aang's face immediately turned the opposite color as hers—he went pale, and looked startled and frightened and a little bit ill.

Neither of them were able to reply.

Katara, of course, knew she wanted to marry him, and soon—but she realized then that she hadn't actually thought about _when_, or even the possibility that it might happen today. But more importantly, she had no idea what Aang's thoughts were now on the matter: neither of them had even brought the subject up again, much less talked about it seriously. It had been less than an hour still since their reunion in the courtyard, and they'd been with the others almost constantly; there hadn't been any time. And it hit her then, too, that she hadn't actually _told _Aang outright yet that she'd changed her mind about marrying him. It was something she'd told him so many times before—in her dreams, in the Spirit World, during his long sleep—she'd almost forgotten, in the whirlwind of excitement since his awakening, that he hadn't actually _heard _it yet, in real life.

But—surely he must know?

If it had been up to her, she would have answered yes to Tenzin's question without hesitation—Yes, they'd be married; perhaps not today, but soon. But she couldn't answer: she couldn't speak for Aang. Did he still want to? She assumed so, but... Had he forgiven her for what happened the _last _time this issue had come up between them? She hoped so; he seemed as if he had; she couldn't see how he _wouldn't_, after all she'd done to bring him back...

She turned, meeting his gaze, her stomach twisting into nervous knots. But she gave him a tentative smile, her eyes asking hopefully: _What do you think?_

Aang stared back at her, with the expression of a small, frightened animal caught in a trap.

It was what he wanted. He'd wanted for a long time—

But only two days ago he'd asked—fearlessly, hopefully, stupidly certain—and she'd crushed him, run away and left him broken and confused.

But he looked in her eyes now, and he could see that she wanted it—she wanted it desperately—or she wanted _something_—or she thought she did—

And he was afraid. No—_petrified_.

Why? Why? Why did she want it now? Why not before? _Why not?_

He didn't understand. He couldn't answer. He sat there, silent as stone, gaping at her in blank, frantic, confused, instinctive terror.

"They _couldn't_ get married today, darling."

The voice belonged to Grandma Ursa, and it shattered the silence like a spell being broken. She came to Katara and Aang's rescue, sending a quiet, reassuring smile to Tenzin, who looked a bit confused and disappointed.

"See," she went on carefully, "these things take some time. There's a lot that needs to be done for that sort of thing. It would be too much all for one day."

Tenzin furrowed his brow at her. "But Ursa said they could?"

"Yeah, why not, Grandma?" Little Ursa asked curiously, looking equally disappointed.

"Ahem," Iroh interjected cautiously, coming to Ursa's aid in rescuing Aang and Katara. "Well, children, these things are complicated. That's all. And besides, Tenzin, your father hasn't been awake for even two hours yet. Don't you think he needs some rest before we start to worry about that sort of thing?"

Tenzin frowned, decidedly grouchy now, and shuffled his feet unhappily. "I guess," he mumbled.

Somehow relieved and disappointed at the same time, Katara breathed, and looked back at Aang, studying him worriedly—still longing to know what he thought, even though the sudden pressure had been removed for the time being.

But Aang couldn't look at her anymore—couldn't look at anyone. He shut his eyes tightly, closing out everything, desperate for _some _semblance of calmness and solitude and normalcy. Already, already, he could feel that one small surge he'd had of pure, uncomplicated, unbroken love beginning to drift away, slip through his grasp, becoming lost once more in the stormy sea of his fears and hurt and distrust. He could feel its peace and certainty leaking out of him, and he urgently wanted to hold on to it, to not let it slip away. But the struggle was futile.

And then, all at once, a new wave of coldness swept over him, with malicious force. His head screamed with dull, throbbing pain—shoving out everything else—and for the second time that morning, his eyesight was blurred by phantom spots, swirling black shadows, swarming across his vision for less than a second. He blinked, blinked furiously, and then they were gone. But the cold and the headache remained.

His heart was clawing wildly at his insides, seized suddenly with overwhelming panic—though he wasn't sure why, or at what.

He just had to get out of there. He had to leave. He needed quiet. He needed stillness. He needed space. He needed air. He needed to be alone—just for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, that's all.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet.

"I'm, uh," he stammered, shaking himself fiercely. "I'm gonna go outside, for a little while."

"Are you okay?" Katara asked, staring at him in alarm. She reached up and grasped his hand—preventing him from escaping. His panic shrieked louder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he insisted, almost frantically, his voice squeaking a bit. "I just—I just need some air—"

"I'll come with you," she offered, hoping for a chance to talk to him alone and sort out all these things they hadn't yet talked about.

"No!" he cried quickly, pulling his hand away from hers; she looked stricken, and he burned with guilt, trying to correct himself. "No, that's—sorry. I'm sorry, Katara. I just... need some time to myself. Just for a few minutes. Okay?"

"Oh... o-okay," she stumbled confusedly, furrowing her brow at him with worry, and clearly reluctant to let him go. But she swallowed hard, restraining herself. "Sure—yeah. Okay, I understand. Just—just come find me when you're done. All right, Aang?"

He nodded hastily at her, and then left the room, forcing himself not to run as he did.

* * *

><p>Aang escaped into the open air of one of the healing house's second-level patios, breathing, breathing, desperately gasping in the openness and the aloneness and the peaceful quiet, as desperately as if he'd been suffocating.<p>

His head was pounding almost unbearably now, and at first the bright white North Pole sunlight only made it worse—forcing him to cover his eyes with his hands and block it out for a moment—but the open air calmed his heart a bit, and the relief of being alone settled some of the panicked tension in his muscles.

_What's wrong with me?_

Something was wrong, and he didn't think it could all be entirely chalked up to his confusion and heartache—though that was certainly exacerbating it.

He didn't know. He felt like he didn't know anything.

But now he had some time. He had some time to sort it out. He had a moment to gather a little peace for himself.

With a heavy sigh, Aang meandered to the edge of the patio, seating himself on the ground with his back to the railing. He shivered with the cold, wondering again why he couldn't warm himself like he normally could.

But, dismissing that relatively trivial worry, he took another moment or two just to breathe, then folded his legs and assumed his usual meditative position, fists together, eyes closed. He inhaled deeply—_deeper_—filling himself to the brim with the cold, pure, uncomplicated freshness of the morning air, immersing himself as fully as he could in his familiar element. And for a brief moment, the throbbing in his head began to subside, until it had faded almost completely. But the chill still lingered in his flesh—not violent or painful, just mildly uncomfortable.

He listened to the silence—teeming with far-off sounds, the noises of the city, and the stirrings of life inside the healing house. Now that the noise was distant, only in the background of the silence, it became more of a soothing ambiance instead of a disorienting storm.

He stared at the dark insides of his eyelids, and told himself to relax. Let his mind drift away. Wander through the larger, unchangeable threads of the world around him, contemplate the interconnection of all the sounds and all the movements of the universe. Forget himself in the vastness.

That dull pain suddenly pulsed again in the crevices of his skull.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he pressed his fingers into the hollows of his eyes, trying to crush out the headache, feeling frustrated that it wouldn't leave him alone, even in quiet meditation.

_What's wrong with me? What's going on?_

It was probably just an ordinary sickness—perhaps some side effect from the whole ordeal of coming back from the Spirit World after five years, or from his four-day sleep after that. After all, he hadn't even been awake for two hours yet. He just hadn't had any time to recover—

He just needed some time.

But, his mind couldn't help lingering in the second question. _What's going on?_

What _was _going on? What had happened? What would happen now?

_No__—_he shook himself stubbornly. _Not right now. You need to stop thinking about this, just for a little while._

He resumed his meditative position and exhaled slowly, thinking about the feeling of the air as it was released from his lungs. Thinking about—

Five years.

He thought about that. He tried yet again to make himself comprehend it: five years between yesterday and today. Five years for Katara to change her mind.

_I disappeared, and then she changed her mind..._

The idea of that had been bothering him all morning. But only now did he begin to sort out why.

_So... that was what it took? Me disappearing for five years?_

_So what if I hadn't disappeared? Would she still have changed her mind?_

_Or did she only change her mind _because _I disappeared?_

The logic of that troubled him immensely, but it made too much sense to ignore. There was the answer to his question, the one that had paralyzed him when Tenzin had brought up the marriage issue: Why did she want it now? Why not before?

Because he disappeared. She didn't want him until she suddenly couldn't have him.

It was awful to think about—he felt awful thinking it, about her—he wanted to believe that wasn't the case. But how else to explain it?

_... Does it really matter why she changed her mind, though? She wants you now. Isn't that what_ you _wanted?_

Yes, but... But, it _did _matter. It did matter why she changed her mind. Because if that was the only reason why she changed her mind, then... how long could this last, before she got tired of him again?

And then, and then also—what _was_ it that had gone wrong in the first place? He still couldn't figure that out, and that was troubling him immensely too. She'd seemed perfectly happy before. He'd never even suspected that she might be harboring any secret problems, any buried misgivings. She'd been fine—they were happy, _more_ than happy—until suddenly they weren't. All because he'd asked her to marry him.

_Why?_

His mind, pulsing with the headache, searched back through the details of that horrible conversation they'd had on Appa's back. She'd accused him of being too idealistic—of basing his decision on pure emotion, on some vague concept of _destiny_—of not thinking enough. Where would they live? How would they raise a family?

_It was more than that, though._

He knew it was. It was more than what she'd said aloud. But what _was _it? Was it simply the idea of marriage itself that had made her recoil back then? Or—or was it the idea of marriage to _him_, of being stuck with him forever?—So all that time, those years they'd been together, had she always been just... passing the time with him, nothing more? Always under the assumption that it wasn't forever, she could end it anytime she wanted?

His thoughts were bitter—much more bitter than he was accustomed to—and they ripped at his heart in ways that made his entire body quiver. He clenched his jaw and forced down tears.

Did she think he wouldn't make a good husband? Was that it? Did she think he wasn't mature enough?

If that _was _the case, then surely now it would be even worse. He'd been robbed of five years of maturation. He already felt insufficient, like she'd left him behind somehow.

But now she wanted him after all.

He tried to sort it out, to put all the pieces together, to see it all at once, hoping to make _some _kind of sense out of it.

They'd been together, they'd been happy. Then she realized she didn't want him—not for good, at least. Then he disappeared for five years. And now she did want him. Or she thought she did.

So what had changed? Perhaps, over all that time, she'd simply forgotten why she didn't want him before. Perhaps, over all that time, she'd come to only remember the things she liked about him, until he'd become in her mind some perfect version of himself that didn't actually exist—and that was who she thought he was now. That would explain all her baffling behavior—her relentless affection, her uncharacteristic infatuation, her protective clinginess. Perhaps, right now, she was simply so excited about him being back after such a long time that she couldn't see straight.

_But when the excitement wears off...?_

A powerful part of him—the same part that had been screaming frantically through his veins earlier, demanding him to stop thinking before he ruined everything—wanted desperately now to just ignore all these worries, to take advantage of Katara's sudden spurt of blind infatuation and marry her before she had a chance to change her mind again.

But—no. He couldn't—he _wouldn't _do that to her. To exploit her moment of weakness just to satisfy his own hopeless, frustrating desires. That would only leave them both miserable in the long run, and it especially wouldn't be fair to her. No, neither of them were thinking clearly now: he was too hurt and confused and unwell to see straight, and she was too excited, deceived by her own fantasies. Now wasn't the time to make any enormous decision like marriage, no matter how much he wanted it, or how much she thought she wanted it. It could only turn out disastrous. Because right now, he wasn't just _Aang_ to her—he'd become some great thing to her that wasn't real, that she thought would somehow magically fix all the problems in her world.

She was only going to be disappointed once she remembered that he was just a person.

He shuddered again from the tremors that tore through his heart at all these thoughts, and shut his eyes fiercely, forcing himself not to crumble under the pain.

It would be so much easier, he thought, if he could just _stop _loving her now. That way, when the disappointment finally hit her—when she got tired of him again, and remembered why she'd rejected him the first time (whatever it was)—when everything went wrong again, as it inevitably would—at least then it wouldn't hurt him so much. At least then he might actually recover one day.

But he couldn't do that either. He couldn't stop loving her. He already knew it was hopeless; he'd given his entire heart to her too freely, trusting her not to crush it, a long time ago. There was nothing he could do now to save it from being crushed.

In desperate need of peace—just _a little_ peace of mind and spirit—he fought to shut off his mind, to tune out all these agonizing, devastating thoughts and emotions. Just for a few minutes, that was all he needed. Just a few minutes of escape, and he'd feel better. He knew he would.

He tried again to meditate—again and again. But each time, the throbbing pain in his head brought him back, refused to let him take solace in that refuge he needed so badly. His body was wracked with chills that he couldn't send away, no matter how he tried. And each attempt at meditation only made the cold and the migraine worse.

At his final attempt, just when he felt he'd finally made it, finally found his center of peace again, the pain speared suddenly, brutally, straight through his skull—no longer numb and dull, but sharp and vicious—as if the headache were somehow _punishing _him for trying to meditate. When he opened his eyes, gasping in anguish, the eerie phantom spots were swimming in his sight again. He blinked hard to send them away—and they did disperse, but more reluctantly this time, obscuring his sight for almost two whole seconds.

With an exhausted sigh, he slouched against the railing, letting his head fall back and staring dully up at the cloudy sky.

He couldn't meditate.

It was what he needed more than anything—the one thing that might have settled his troubles, brought him peace—and he couldn't do it.

At last, confused and numb and unsure what to do now, he rose wearily to his feet and wandered back into the healing house, with only the faint thought that at least maybe he could escape from the cold.

As he stumbled wearily down the corridor inside, feeling thoroughly drained and demolished, he happened to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the smooth surface of an icy mirror frozen to the wall. It was the first time he'd seen his own reflection since he'd woken up. The sight of himself startled him violently, bringing his feet instantly to an uncertain halt and making his heart trip awkwardly over itself for a moment; he breathed, and the strange reflection gaped back at him in a rather stupid daze.

He was... _old_.

No—he shook his head—not old. Just _older_. But he already knew that. It was just—it was different, actually seeing it. He hadn't quite believed how he'd aged, till now. His face looked—not _wrong_. Just... fake, or something. Like a mask. The mask of his twenty-one year old self, hiding his real sixteen year old self. It almost embarrassed him. As if his face were putting on an outward show of authority and grown-up masculinity in order to compensate for all his inner uncertainties.

_Though... it really isn't _that _different_, he thought after a moment, trying to persuade himself to accept that this would be his face from now on. And it _wasn't _that different, really. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure what specifically had changed. That was his nose—the same nose as before. Those were his eyes. That was his mouth. His arrow, obviously—Yes, all of it was his.

Yet something _had _changed. Not one specific feature. Just something subtle in the totality.

It didn't help that he still hadn't shaved yet. Not only was his head covered in a layer of short black stubble, it also crept down his cheeks and spread over the entirety of his jaw and chin. He touched his face pensively, scratching at his own baffling facial hair.

Well. At least, like Sokka had said, it didn't look _bad_. Just—different.

Strangely, he almost felt embarrassed about that too. As if he hadn't earned the right to grow a beard, yet it had the audacity to start growing anyway.

Katara hadn't said anything about it. He wondered what she'd been thinking about it. Surely she must have been thinking _something_—it looked so out of place on his face, he couldn't imagine that she'd simply be indifferent.

He realized now, too, that overall he'd gotten slightly—_fuller_. His shoulders and chest were just a bit more broad than he remembered them being. His limbs looked just barely too long, just barely too thick. The fake maturity had spread beyond just his face. No wonder he'd felt so strange and uncomfortable in his own body when he'd first woken up.

_This is who I am_.

Twenty-one year old Aang, with facial hair and a five year old son. This was who he was. He knew it was true. It really wasn't a big deal, he told himself. He'd simply have to get used to it.

Then a new thought struck him.

So—this is what Katara had been staring at all morning. This guy in the reflection, with all his stubble and fake maturity.

The thought somehow made him feel both better and worse.

Better, because now that he got a good look at himself, some of his earlier self-consciousness about how Katara had grown older began to dissipate. He saw now, very clearly, that he looked like he _could _belong alongside Katara—no one looking at the two of them together would think that they didn't match.

But worse, because—somehow—the realization that _this _Aang was the one she'd been looking at the whole time, the one she hadn't been able to take her eyes off of...

He almost felt, weirdly... _jealous_. Jealous of the guy in the mirror. Because that was who she'd been staring at. Not him.

Except it _was _him. It _was_. He was being nonsensical—he knew he was, and so he tried to dispel the uneasy feeling—but it wouldn't leave him alone, just like the cold. The thought that _this _was what Katara had been gazing at so intently all morning somehow only made him feel even more sure that he himself wasn't really what she thought she wanted at all. Not under the surface. Only on the outside. And once she realized that his insides didn't match his outsides—that this mirror-Aang was only a fake, an impostor...

Aang shook his head again, and wrenched himself away from the mirror with an obstinate frown.

_I need to shave_, he thought, with almost frantic urgency.

He ran off hastily, to do so as soon as possible—but when he turned the next corner, he almost plowed directly into Zuko.

"Oh!" he exlaimed.

"Ah!" Zuko cried, startled. He blanched, gawking at Aang blankly.

"Sorry, Zuko," Aang gasped. "Didn't see you there."

"Uh—it's—it's okay," Zuko stammered, blinking rapidly, trying to regain his composure. "Hey, I'm actually glad I caught you. I still need to talk to you." He darted his eyes around warily for a moment. "Katara's not here, is she?"

Aang furrowed his brow. "No. Why?"

Zuko sighed heavily, and fixed Aang with a somber and remorseful look. "Well," he began, tentatively, shoving his hands restlessly into his pockets yet again. "Listen, Aang. There's—there's something I really need to... clear up with you. About... me and Katara—"

But Zuko didn't have a chance to get any farther than that, as he was once more interrupted by a loud shout from the other side of the corridor.

"Yeah, there they are!" It was Sokka's voice this time: he came around the corner at the far end of the hall, pointing at Aang and Zuko as he did, speaking to someone who was just around the corner behind him. Without waiting for whoever it was to catch up with him, he hustled briskly towards them, with a mildly irked scowl wrinkling his forehead.

"Hey," he said to them. "Good, you're both here. Uh, so—it seems like we might have a slight... _situation_—"

Trotting up behind him came a rather grim-looking Water Tribe woman, huffing slightly. Aang didn't recognize her, but Zuko remembered her at once: the obstinate assistant to the Chief that they'd argued with on the day of the Winter Solstice—the one who'd almost refused them access to the Spirit Oasis. He was less than pleased to see her, not only because he'd gotten a very bad impression of her from their earlier encounter, but also because if she was here now, then she must have been sent from Chief Arnook—and the only reason why Zuko could imagine the Chief would send his assistant to find him was that something had happened involving Azula.

"What's going on?" Zuko demanded, unable to keep the tremor of fear out of his voice, too anxious to remember to be annoyed that he'd been interrupted a second time in his attempt to talk to Aang.

"Fire Lord Zuko," the Water Tribe woman exhaled wearily, bowing her head to him, with a bored, irritated expression. "Chief Arnook needs to see you over at the palace right away. And you too, Avatar Aang." Suddenly, as she turned to Aang, her bored frown suddenly transformed into an eager, almost giddy grin. "Which, by the way, it's _such_ an honor! I'm a _huge_ fan."

"Oh." Aang blinked at her, caught a little off guard. "Well... thanks?"

"My name is—"

She started to offer her hand to Aang, but Zuko interrupted her impatiently.

"Stop wasting time! _What's going on?_" he cried again. "Why does the Chief want to see us?"

She glowered at him. "Ahem. I'd _prefer _you not to use that tone with me, Fire Lord, if you don't mind." Then she glanced back at Aang and said, all at once, in a rapid monotone. "Name's Eska, Chief Arnook's head assistant, nice to meet you, Avatar."

"Yeah, okay, are we done with the introductions?" Zuko growled, fixing her with a furious glower of his own.

"It's nice to meet you, Eska," Aang nodded quickly—his voice was calmer than Zuko's, but still stern. "Please, tell us what's going on? Is it something we should be concerned about?"

"Is it something to do with Azula?" Zuko asked urgently.

"Well, yes and no," she replied, resuming her previous bored tone with a sigh. "The Chief needs to see the two of you because, apparently, someone attempted to break into your prisoner's cell last night. Or—they actually _did_ break in. I can't remember. One of those things."

"What?" Zuko cried, his eyes growing wide in alarm. "But—what happened? Who was it?"

"Beats me," she shrugged. "They just caught the guy not too long ago. Found him wandering around the city and took him straight on over to the palace. I didn't actually get a chance to see him myself—the Chief sent me here to find you two right away. He wants the two of you to head over there immediately to help decide what ought to be done with him."

Aang, observing the way that Zuko bristled with barely suppressed panic, put a hand on his shoulder. "Zuko," he said slowly. "Just calm down. It sounds like everything's pretty under control. I'm sure it's nothing to get too worried about."

Zuko breathed deeply, struggling to relax and only halfway succeeding. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Why does Chief Arnook need to see both of us?" Aang asked Eska. "Isn't this mostly Zuko's business?"

"Well," Eska replied, frowning a bit, "apparently, whoever it was, he got into the prison by impersonating _you_, Avatar. So—I guess the Chief figured you might be, uh... interested in what happens to him."

Sokka, inexplicably, suddenly burst into subdued chuckles.

Zuko and Aang stared at him in bewilderment.

"_What are you laughing at?_" Zuko frowned at him, agitated and unnerved.

"This doesn't really seem like a laughing matter, Sokka," Aang added, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you guys," Sokka sighed, shaking his head. "I... _yeah_, I don't think this is actually anything to worry about. At all."

"How can you—?" Zuko began, but Sokka cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No, no, think about it," he said, grinning shrewdly. "Which person in our group has been missing since early this morning?"

Aang knotted his brow in confusion. "Toph?"

"Besides Toph."

"_Yonten._" Zuko unleashed a frustrated sigh of his own—but he did sound considerably less alarmed than before.

"And," Sokka went on, rather redundantly, "which person in the group just _happens _to bear a very strong resemblance to Aang?"

"But why would Yonten want to break into Azula's cell?" Zuko asked, utterly flummoxed.

"Uh," Eska broke in impatiently. "Here's a crazy idea. Maybe we should all head over to the palace, like the Chief asked, and find out?" She shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

* * *

><p>Minutes later, the three of them (plus Eska) arrived at the palace on foot, rushing hastily into Chief Arnook's main chamber, where the Chief himself was seated on the steps that stood before the chamber's ever-thundering waterfall, speaking in grim whispers to a few of his councilors beneath the ornate stone arch. Several Waterbenders were also either seated on the steps or standing alert around the chamber, looking rather tense.<p>

Aang entered the chamber first, stirring up wind as he came; the other three were all quite a distance behind him, unable to keep pace with his swift Airbender feet (even though he had restrained himself somewhat for their benefit). When he passed through the tall arch of the entrance way, his eyes were glowing, eager to finally see this other Airbender he'd heard so much about.

Chief Arnook glanced toward the entrance, and his own face lit up when he caught sight of Aang.

"Avatar Aang!" he cried, standing and throwing out his arms in greeting. "It's good to see you well again, after all this time! I must say, you're looking none too worse for the wear."

Aang bowed to the Chief, smiling courteously. "Thank you," he said, while Sokka, Zuko and Eska came running breathlessly in behind him. "It's good to see you again too, Chief Arnook. So—I heard someone was impersonating me?"

The Chief nodded gravely, and gestured at one of the Waterbenders who stood beside a smaller arched doorway at the far side of the room. The man quickly turned toward the doorway, signaling to someone on the other side. A moment later, two of the guards from the prisons entered the main chamber from the side room, escorting between them a relatively small person, bald and tattooed with arrows. Considering his current situation, their tattooed captive looked remarkably serene, if not a tiny bit peeved. However, when he glanced around the chamber and spotted Aang, his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he grimaced with faint embarrassment.

"Oh," he said. "Hello, Avatar Aang. I see you're, um, feeling better now than you were earlier this morning? That's good."

Aang merely gaped at Yonten for a few seconds, mouth hanging open—and suddenly, his face broken into an uncontainable, amazed smile. He hadn't fully believed it, he realized, until that very moment.

"So it's you! Right?" he burst excitedly as he stepped forward. "You're the other Airbender! Toph's boyfriend. Right?"

"There's another Airbender?!" Eska exclaimed.

"Toph has a boyfriend?!" Zuko exclaimed.

Yonten, of course, instantly turned several shades of red. "Well, er," he stuttered. "I don't think _Toph_ would quite agree with that description. I mean—other than the 'Airbender' part. It's rather hard to argue with that—"

"Yeah, man!" Sokka smirked at Zuko, completely ignoring Yonten. "Toph and Baldy have been all over each other! Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Apparently not enough," Zuko remarked.

"I even made a hilarious joke about it at breakfast earlier!"

"_Ahem_," Yonten interjected hastily, still blushing vibrantly—but he turned to Aang again, bowing quickly, with a quiet smile. "Anyway—yes, hello. I am Yonten. It's an honor to officially meet you, Avatar Aang."

Then he trailed off, his eyes shifting abashedly around the room—at the guards, the Chief, the entire embarrassing situation—

At last, he added rather awkwardly: "And, um... sorry."

* * *

><p><em>*Sigh* This chapter. Just a roller coaster of emotions. I can't believe how much crap I'm putting poor Aang through in this story. I know I've asked this before, but... Why am I so mean to characters I love?! Well—I guess it's because I have the comfort of knowing it'll all turn out okay in the end (and now you all do too! Just in case you weren't sure before). <em>^_^

_OK, so, as mentioned in the A/N at the top of the page, I read Part One of "The Search" and I have some things to say about the Ursa-part of the story..._

_[REALLY MILD SPOILER WARNING] So, just for starters, why did they have to make it that she was basically coerced into marrying Ozai? I dunno. I prefer to think she actually __did__ love Ozai at some point, just because it's a little less black-and-white that way. You know? I mean, good people can get in bad relationships. And anyway, Ozai's already so irredeemably EVIL all the time, it would have been nice to make his character a little more complex for once. It actually seemed like they were sort of doing that a bit in "The Promise," but... meh, whatever. Also, ahem, the story seems to be leaning towards this "True Love Is More Important Than __Anything__!" angle... which is kinda problematic, considering that a lot of Ursa's actions, particularly with regards to her children, suddenly come across as pretty selfish and shallow because of that. And also (I'm sure some of you guys have probably at least heard about this) there was this really melodramatic twist at the end of that comic that... made me a little upset, for reasons. ("Reasons" being that I dearly love Zuko and his brilliantly executed character arc in the show, and this twist threatens to take a lot of the punch out of Zuko's entire story, at least IMHO). But that's all I'll say about that. Feel free to express your own opinion in the reviews, if you want. _:)

__[SPOILERS OVER] Though the comic __was__ very nicely drawn and well put-together. And the dialogue is pretty great and in-character most of the time, which I appreciate. And I thought everything with Azula was just spot-on (which I know from experience is not easy to do). And, of course, it is only part ONE of a 3-part series, so maybe I should withhold some of my complaints until the end. The nice thing about those comics ("The Promise" too) is that I can treat them as sort of half-canon: I can enjoy them like they're canon, but I also feel okay just ignoring them when I want to... __

_Anyways. Yeah, that's all I wanted to say. By the way, everyone, something mildly amusing: I just discovered very recently that, apparently, one of Korra's creepy cousins in the upcoming season of LoK is also named Eska. Total coincidence. I was just trying to think of an authentic-sounding Water Tribey name when I came up with "Eska." I guess I did a good job, ha. Just thought I'd share that._

_Next chapter will be a little less, er... thinky, than this one, I guess? _^_^

_Welp, that's all! Glad to be back! I have to admit, I've been a bit nervous about jumping back into this story after such a long time... Especially since this was a pretty difficult point to jump into. I'm so afraid everyone's gonna be like, "Hm, nope, not as good as before, you totally lost your touch." But hopefully I handled it all right—and there is still much more to come! _:D


	46. Avatar's Morning II: The Chief's Palace

_Part Two! Woo-hoo! Yes, it's a multiple-chapter day today... _^_^

Mai: "Huh... Wow. Five months with nothing, and suddenly you're pumping the chapters out left and right. Guilty much?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "No!... Well, maybe a little." :  
>Mai: "You should be. Because, you know, that whole time when you weren't writing anything... You know what <em>I <em>was doing?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Erm—I dunno. What?"<br>Mai: "Sitting here. Right here, where the two of us are sitting right now. Doing absolutely nothing. By myself. The _whole time._" -_-  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>looks around<em>* "Where _are_ we sitting, anyway? We're not really anywhere right now..."  
>Mai: "EXACTLY."<br>Rain&Roses: "Ah... Oops. Sorry about that, Mai. Hopefully I won't go on hiatus again, but if I do, I'll be sure to send you off to Hawaii or something first." :D  
>Mai: "Thanks. Thanks a bunch." *<em>sigh<em>*

* * *

><p><strong>THE AVATAR'S MORNING, PART TWO:<br>The Chief's Palace**

Katara was restless.

It had only been about ten minutes since Aang had run off so abruptly from breakfast—only ten minutes that he'd been out of her sight since she'd crashed into him in the courtyard earlier—and she was currently back outside in that same snowy courtyard with Appa, ruffling the bison's furry head fondly, with a distracted look in her eyes, tapping her feet and biting her lip and feeling very, very restless.

_Don't. Just don't. Don't do it. Don't._

The only thing keeping her nervous feet from running away with her immediately was that one repeated command: _Don't_. She'd been forcefully giving it to herself for approximately nine-and-a-half minutes now.

_He needs space. You know he does. He just needs time alone. You're going to overwhelm him. You're going to drive him crazy. You're going to make him think _you're _crazy..._

_I mean, you might be, a little. But you don't want _him _to know that._

_Just don't. Don't. Don't you do it. You know you shouldn't._

But she wanted to, _so _badly. To race right back into that healing house and track him down at once. She couldn't help it.

Admittedly, that was the main reason she'd come wandering back out here to visit Appa. She'd hoped perhaps Aang might have come here, seeking solace in the company of his bison. She'd hoped perhaps that he wouldn't mind the fact that she hadn't just waited for him to come find _her_, as she'd said she would. She'd hoped perhaps to have a chance to finally talk to him, in private (well, other than Appa), about all those things they hadn't had an opportunity to talk about yet. To make sure, _doubly _sure, he knew that she'd changed her mind, she wanted to marry him now. To confirm that _he _still wanted to—she was still feeling anxious about that strange, startled look that had come into his eyes when Tenzin had brought the subject up so suddenly at breakfast. And, if he wasn't sure now, to somehow persuade him to _be _sure again. She felt completely confident that, once everything had calmed down and the two of them had a chance to simply talk, in peace, then it would all work out the way it was supposed to. All during her semi-hurried, don't-be-too-eager, try-to-act-normal walk out to the courtyard, she'd even allowed herself to indulge in a vague, silly sort of fantasy that perhaps, perhaps, they _would _get married today—perhaps by nightfall it would be done! It could happen, couldn't it?

Honestly, though... more than anything, she'd come out here driven by the simple urge just to see him a little more, and hear his voice a little more, and make him smile a little more, and have the feeling of his arms around her again, a little more. She needed it: she was craving it, all of it, _painfully_. She felt cheated, like she'd only been given a small taste of what she'd been waiting for all this time—cruel and teasing, leaving her even hungrier than before.

But she'd arrived, and he wasn't here. Just Appa, all by his lonesome and perfectly content.

Now it was just Appa and Katara, all by their lonesomes, one content and the other restless. Aang was off somewhere else right now, somewhere back inside the house—

(Or was he? Did he _say_ he was going to stay inside the house? No, but—but he didn't say he _wasn't_, so—? But what if—! Suppose he'd run off! Suppose he'd...! No, no, he wouldn't just run off, he wouldn't—not without telling her... Right?!)

_Oh, get a grip, would you! You're acting like a lunatic!_

Katara let her eyes drift shut, forcing herself to take a long, slow, deep breath, and leaned wearily against Appa's head, brushing her hands along his great furry arrow. Appa was half-dozing happily, more happily than he had in five years, grunting a bit with each steady breath—absolutely content with the mere knowledge that Aang was _somewhere _around there, it didn't matter where. Katara envied the bison his complacency.

"How do you do it?" she asked him. "How can you be so... _nonchalant?_"

Appa opened his eyes lethargically and gave her an almost condescendingly satisfied look.

"You _really _don't care where he is?" she insisted, a little indignantly. "You're telling me you don't want to fly off and find him right now? Not even a little?"

Appa just huffed a bit through his nose and closed his eyes again, settling down lazily. Katara got the feeling that the bison was amused at her, pitying her for her ridiculous paranoia. What was there to worry about? Aang existed again. That was all that mattered. She just needed to settle down and _relax_.

But Katara couldn't relax. Her entire being was coiled up like a knot.

It had only been about two hours since he'd woken up, maybe a little more. So short a time—and, like an idiot, she'd gone and left her post by his side at precisely the wrong moment, and wasted that entire first hour ignorantly walking around the city with Zuko. And now, after five years of being without him, missing him every minute of every day, burdened with hopeless regret and unbearable certainty that she'd never see him again—after going through so much horror and struggle to get him back, and coming so close to losing him for good—after waiting and waiting and _waiting_—she'd barely gotten an hour in with him before he'd run off again. And even that one little hour had been spent in the distracting company of the others, keeping her from fully absorbing the pleasure of his brand new aliveness, from being able to fully sort out all those overwhelming, inexpressible things she wanted and needed to say to him. She was starved for his presence—desperate just to have a little time alone with him. If she could have had her way, she would have set aside the entire day to do nothing but spend time with him and hold him in her arms and really persuade herself that he was _there _again, for good. Then she would have been fine. As it was, she hadn't gotten even _close _to the time she needed—and so she was restless. She couldn't help it.

Just having him out of her sight right now was nerve-wracking. It had only been ten—no, eleven minutes now, and she was almost beside herself with anxiety. She knew it wasn't rational, but she couldn't shake the dreadful terror that she simply _wouldn't _be able to find him when she finally did go looking—that he'd somehow just inexplicably vanish, like some flighty evanescent spirit, while her back was turned.

It wasn't rational. But—well. It had happened before...

She was beginning to realize just how traumatized she still was from his sudden disappearance all those years ago. She still didn't trust him not to just stop existing for no discernible reason, all over again. She still didn't quite believe that he was actually here again to stay. And she'd had such a brief time with him so far—barely an hour—a single dizzy, heady, over-excited, over-saturated whirlwind of an almost-hour—the whole thing was beginning to feel like just a small blip of light amid a long stretch of darkness, so small it almost didn't seem entirely real. And now that she didn't have the comfort of his tangibility and himselfness around to reassure her, she was already beginning to doubt. Maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe (and she _knew _this was utterly insane and irrational, but she thought it anyway), maybe it was all some surreal trick, the universe playing a sick joke on her, pointless and absurd and beyond explanation: offering him back to her exactly the way he was supposed to be, only to arbitrarily poof him away again, just to mess with her: "Look, don't worry, he's fine now!—Oh, _nope_, just kidding! Ha, you should see your face!"

Katara's heart pounded hysterically against her chest.

_No, no! Don't do it! Don't you run off looking for him! You _know _he's fine! You stay right here! You give him his space!_

But she couldn't _help_ it...!

Of course, she knew she was being crazy. She knew she needed to get a grip. After all, what could possibly happen? What was there to worry about? Of _course _he was still there, somewhere inside the house, perfectly fine. Of course, everything was all right now. What was she getting so worked up about? Really?

Appa snorted softly beside her, as if to reiterate the question.

"Hey," she frowned, giving the bison a gentle poke. "Don't make fun of me, Appa. You don't know what I had to go through to get him back here in one piece. I'm _perfectly _within my rights to be paranoid."

What would Aang think of her, if he saw her right now? The thought made her chuckle a bit, and managed to calm her hectic heart slightly. He'd probably just laugh at her, and say _Deep breaths, Katara! Deep breaths! _and then ask her why in the world she was on the brink of a random panic attack? Had she lost her mind? He'd only been gone for eleven-and-a-half minutes! Sheesh!

And she'd say, _I know, I know!—I'm sorry, I know!—I just can't help it—I'm sorry—yeah, I may have lost my mind a little bit..._

What did he think of her now—just, in general? If she were to run off and hunt him down right this second, would he be glad to see her again so soon, or would he wish that she could have controlled herself and left him alone for a few more minutes? Wherever he was, he was undoubtedly deep in meditation right now. That was good. He definitely needed it. She'd sensed how tense and disoriented he'd been all through breakfast, and even before. He'd certainly feel much better after some quiet, soothing, self-realigning meditation: she didn't want to disturb that, no matter how much she was craving the sight of him.

And now, at the twelve minute mark or so, she began to think more seriously about how she was going to actually broach the whole _marriage _subject. Up until this point, her giddy mind had only managed to form an extremely vague, blissful notion of how that conversation was going to go: something along the lines of, "So... Married?—Me, you?—_Right now?!_—OKAY!" And after that would just be excitement and happiness and laughter and happiness and more heart-racing and more kisses and total, perfect, unrestrained happiness for the rest of... _always_.

The more she thought about it now, with the concept of "real life" actually somewhat involved, the more she began to realize that she was probably being a little too idealistic. Just a little.

Especially because, as she now began to faintly dread, somewhere in that conversation they were going to have to address the awful incident of his first proposal and her... less-than-ideal response to it. She was going to have to explain herself, in such a way that Aang hopefully never even thought about it again for the rest of his life. She wished she could somehow remove that terrible memory completely from his mind—from _both _of their minds—and go on with everything as if it had never happened.

But no. It _had _happened. And she needed to acknowledge it; there was no running away from it. But what would she say? How would she explain herself?

_Listen—I was stupid back then_—_I don't know what was wrong with me_—_I got scared—I was confused, and selfish—I just had a moment of cowardice—I wasn't sure I could handle it—_

_But I changed my mind, Aang. Almost as soon as you left. I realized how stupid I was, and I changed my mind. I was going to tell you as soon as you came back... But then you didn't come back. So I couldn't._

_But now you're here again. So—now I'm telling you. I want to marry you. I want to marry you right now, and just be with you, and be normal with you, and love you as much as I want, and laugh with you, and Waterbend with you, and sleep next to you every night, and take care of you and be taken care of by you, and be Tenzin's parents with you, and maybe have _more _babies with you (if you want) and be their parents too, and go on adventures with you, and take care of the world with you, and live with you and grow up with you and get old with you and just be me with you together—just that, always. The two of us. Right now._

_That's what I want. I want it more than anything. It's all I've wanted for the past five years. So if you still want it too, then... I really, really think we should._

Yes!—That was good. That was perfect. She should say exactly that to him when she... when...

Wait, how did it start again?

Katara groaned a little to herself, almost physically feeling the words drain out of her, escaping hopelessly into the air. She should have written it down or something.

Well. She'd come up with it again, or something like it, when the time came. She'd _force _the words to come out right. She'd make sure he understood, if he didn't already. And she was certain he'd forgive her for her past stupidity—in fact, perhaps he already had. Perhaps he'd simply tell her that it didn't matter at all anymore, and she didn't have to try so hard to convince him, but he appreciated the effort anyway.

He didn't seem to be holding anything against her now, from what she could tell, just from the way he'd been acting. He hadn't even brought it up. And after all she'd done for him, too, all she'd gone through to bring him back... He _must _understand now. She was sure of it. Especially—especially when she recalled the way he'd looked at her at breakfast after seeing Tenzin's drawing, after learning how she'd saved him in the Spirit Oasis: like he couldn't believe she was real, like she was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. That look on his face—gray eyes glistening like gentle thunderstorms, mouth turning up in one of those small, honest, very Aang-ish sort of smiles—his fingers brushing across her cheek... Katara's spine tingled with pleasure just thinking about it. It all still burned brightly in her mind, kindling her heart wildly, bringing a distant, helpless smile to her face.

Yes—he'd forgiven her. She'd done more than enough to erase her awful mistake. It wouldn't matter at all now.

"It's all going to be fine," she exhaled softly, breathing into Appa's thick fur in blissful relaxation at last.

"Momma!"

She turned at the sound of Tenzin's call—only to be hit squarely in the face with a snowball. And Tenzin laughed uproariously, doubled-over at the other end of the courtyard.

After blinking for a moment in shock, Katara Waterbended the snow off of herself and fixed Tenzin with a vengeful smirk. "No, sir! I _know _you did not just do that!"

"I really got you!" he giggled helplessly. "Right in the face!"

"Oh, ho ho..." Katara shook her head slowly, grinning deviously at him and spreading her feet in a firm fighting stance. "You don't know what you're in for now, mister! Did you forget that I'm a _master Waterbender?_"

As she spoke these words, she raised her hands, and about fifty massive snowballs lifted into the air simultaneously. Tenzin's laughter died in an instant, dissolving mid-chortle, and his eyes shot open with dismay.

"You better run, little air-boy!" she shouted ominously, though she was still grinning uncontrollably and her blue eyes gleamed with delight.

With a piercing shriek, Tenzin took off running, zipping breezily around the courtyard and stirring up spinning eddies of snow in his wake. Katara began launching snowballs after him, not fully intending to hit him—at least, not much—but he was so fast she actually found it rather difficult to hit him even when she was trying. Meanwhile, Tenzin kept on screaming endlessly, as if someone was trying to murder him; his screams were enough to draw the attention of a few concerned healing women inside, who opened up the windows and poked their heads out to see what all the ruckus was about—only to be rewarded for their curiosity with several of Katara's stray snowballs smacking them in the face. They hastily shut the windows and resolved not to bother with anything else ever again.

"Hold still, you little monkey!" Katara laughed, doing her best to keep up with him, but he dodged her more swiftly than she could blink.

"_Never!_" he bellowed dramatically, and continued to scream bloody murder.

At last, Katara dropped her snowball volley and threw her hands forward in a rapid motion, rolling her arms skillfully back. As she did, a massive wall of snow reared up directly in Tenzin's path. He didn't have enough time to stop or even slow down, and so crashed straight through it and out the other side, covered in snow and sputtering in breathless astonishment. Then Katara released the suspended snow, and it all tumbled lightly down on his head, covering him even more thoroughly.

"Ha!" she snickered in triumph, trotting toward him and chuckling. "See? That's why you should know better than to pick a snowball fight with a Waterbender."

"I'm all wet!" Tenzin complained loudly, shivering but laughing nevertheless.

"Oh-h, baby! Here," she laughed as well, waving her hands as she approached him. Every drop of snow instantly sprang off him, returning to the ground where it belonged. "Sorry about that. But you can't say you weren't asking for it."

She ruffled his hair and knelt to give him a quick kiss on the forehead—and all at once he sighed wistfully, with a sorrowful and rather petulant expression.

"I wish Daddy was here to play with us," he declared.

Katara's heart was speared at once with a sharp bolt of remorse. "Me too."

"Where'd he go, anyway?" he huffed impatiently.

"Uh—well, somewhere inside the house. I'm not sure exactly where." Then, catching the intent of the eager spark in his eye, she added quickly, "But don't go bothering him quite yet, sweetie. I think he just needs a few minutes to himself right now."

"But earlier he said, he said me and him would play Airbending after breakfast, and then we were gonna go see the big wall, and—and... he _said!_"

"I know, Tenzin," she said hastily, empathizing painfully well with his eagerness to spend time with Aang. "You will. We'll all have lots of time to spend together. But your dad's still... He hasn't had much time to get used to everything yet. You know, he hasn't been awake for very long, and there's a lot—"

"Is he sick or something?" Tenzin's brow furrowed with worry.

"Oh, no. No, it's just—he's just been gone for a really long time, you know, so it's kind of hard... It's not that he doesn't want to spend time with you like he said. He just needs a little time by himself first, okay? It'll only be a short while, don't worry. You're just going to have to be patient with him till he's ready."

A flash of disappointment passed swiftly across the boy's face. But then, all at once, he lit up again, beaming at his mother with hopeful excitement.

"I made up a new Airbending trick!" he proclaimed. "I showed Ursa and she thought it was funny. I was gonna show it to Daddy. You wanna see, Momma?"

"Sure," Katara grinned. "Let's see it."

"Okay." He took a few steps back from her, spreading out his arms with a suddenly grave expression. "_Stand back!_"

Katara did her best to obey, though she couldn't back away _very_ far thanks to the great bulk of Appa, who had somehow managed to drift off into a light doze despite Tenzin's bloodcurdling shrieks during their snowball battle. Katara scooted herself as far back against the lethargic bison as she could, situating herself just beside his closed eye, her back against the side of his massive head.

Scrunching his brow in concentration, Tenzin abruptly sucked in all the air that his little lungs could hold—Katara's hair fluttered from the force of his inhalation, even though she was standing a fairly good distance from him. Then he held his breath, and held it, and _held _it, cheeks bulging out and beginning to turn red. His eyes went wide with the effort, and he began to grunt and squeak, but still did not release the pent-up air.

When Katara was beginning to feel anxious that he was holding his breath for too long, that he was going to make himself pass out or something, she frowned and took a quick step toward him. "Tenzin—!"

But she didn't get to finish her concerned exclamation. All at once, the boy released the air in a massive explosion, propelling himself right off the ground and high into the air, as high as the second-story of the healing house. In the enormous blast of air, Katara was instantly tossed right back into Appa, who awoke with a start and rumbled in alarmed surprise. The snow in the courtyard flew chaotically into the air like an impromptu blizzard, and meanwhile Tenzin flipped backwards in midair and came fluttering lightly back to the ground. He landed a little clumsily nevertheless, and fell onto his rump, promptly erupting into breathless giggles.

"Did you see, Momma?" he cried, scrambling up to his feet. "Did you see what I did?"

Katara was splayed against Appa, entirely disheveled. And Appa was wide awake now, shaking his great shaggy head with a bewildered grunt, trying to figure out what in the world had just happened. Katara blew a few strands of tousled hair out of her face.

"I don't see how I could have possibly missed it," she remarked dryly.

"It was great, right?" Tenzin demanded, skittering up to her and tugging on her arm impatiently.

"Uh—yeah," she faltered, chuckling a bit and struggling to straighten out the windswept mess of her hair. "Yeah, sweetie. Good job. Just... be careful, okay? You could crash into something if you don't watch out. And—and don't hold your breath for so long. You'll make yourself sick."

"But it was _great_, right?" he insisted, completely disregarding all her cautions.

She snickered again, rolling her eyes, and scooped him swiftly up into her arms, planting a firm kiss on his cheek that made him squirm and laugh.

"_Yes, Tenzin, IT WAS GREAT!_" she bellowed forcefully into his ear. "I already said that, silly boy! Pay attention."

"D'you think Daddy will like it?" he asked eagerly.

She grinned again, brushing the tip of her nose against his little one. "I'm sure he'll love it!"

"Has it been enough time yet now? Can we go find him?"

"Well..." She wanted to—oh, she _wanted _to. But, should she? How long had it been now? Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes? Was that long enough?... Maybe, but it was hard to know for sure how much time he might need. She knew she should probably just keep waiting. She'd already ordered herself not to go looking for him, to simply be calm and be casual and wait until he came to find her. That was probably the wisest course of action.

But...

But _Tenzin _wanted to go find him. _Tenzin!_ How could she possibly refuse?

"Yeah," she finally smiled, bottling in an impatient, eager sigh of her own, and returned her little son to the ground again. "Yeah, all right. Let's go find him."

"Hooray!" Tenzin immediately sped off like a wild tornado towards the healing house.

"Hold on—_Tenzin!_" she shouted. "Not so fast! Come back a second."

"What?" he frowned at her, doubling back.

"If he still needs some time to himself when we find him," she said sternly, "then we're going to _let_ him have some time to himself. However much he needs. No matter what. Understood?"

Tenzin paused a moment, and then finally sighed. "Mm-hm."

"_Promise?_"

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, let's go!" He took her hand at once and dragged her off at a wild, windy sprint.

They sped through the healing house—through every hall and hidden corner of the first floor, and then on up to the second floor—Katara being pulled along at a hectic pace behind her small hurricane of a son, who seemed a little impatient that she couldn't run as fast as he could. The healing women all fluttered with startled exclamations as the two of them went blustering by, struggling to keep their windblown hair in order and placing their hands over their hearts in astonishment.

"Daddy!" he shouted down the corridors as they went. "Hey, _Daddy! _Where'd you go?"

Katara almost shushed him, or insisted that he slow down a bit. But the more they explored the healing house, and the less they found of Aang, the more anxious she became, worrying and worrying, until she was almost in a dizzy panic. Where was he? Why weren't they finding him? Where had he gone? He shouldn't be _this _hard to find, right? The healing house was big—but not _that _big. Had he just left the house? Had he gone out into the city? But why would he do that? _Where would he have gone?_

"Aang!" she added her own voice to Tenzin's shouts when her panic finally rose to an unbearable boil. Desperately, she scanned every space of the house around her, peering through every open doorway, darting her eyes out through every window. "_Aang! Where are you?_"

No—

No, no, no...

Just like she'd feared—all her illogical paranoia was coming true. He was gone. She'd let him out of her sight for just a few minutes, and now he was gone again!

When she and Tenzin found that they'd circled the entire way around the second floor of the house, without seeing hide nor hair of Aang, Tenzin finally slowed to a reluctant halt, panting, and gazed up at her in bewilderment. "Where is he?"

But Katara was finding it hard just to breathe amid the frenzied racing of her heart. She didn't have the strength or composure to bring herself to reply at all to Tenzin's question. She'd forgotten words. Her limbs had all gone cold with dread.

"Hey," came Suki's voice suddenly behind them. "You guys looking for Aang?"

Katara whirled around frantically, eyes wide, and gasped in a rapid string of stumbling words—"Suki! Where is he? Do you know where he is?_ Where is he?_" Her voice very much wanted to rise to a shriek; she only just managed to restrain it.

"Whoa." Suki's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Katara's near-hysterical state. Hastily, she stepped forward and put a hand on Katara's shoulder, with a baffled smile. "Calm down, Katara. It's okay. Just _breathe_. I think he's over at the palace—"

"The Chief's Palace?" Katara sputtered, not one bit calmer. "But why? Why would he go there? Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Well, I don't know exactly," Suki shrugged. "But some Water Tribe lady was here a few minutes ago saying that the Chief needed to see Zuko and Aang. Sokka ran off with—"

"But _why?_" Katara cried. She was no longer panicking, but all the energy of her fright had given way to anger and vicious frustration at how much she'd been frightened—and at Aang, for making her so frightened. "What's going on?"

"I just said I don't know," Suki said, bewildered by the furious growl in Katara's voice. She took a step back, as if she were afraid Katara might bite her or something—but her expression twitched slightly with barely disguised amusement. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear what all was going on. But—I'm pretty sure that's where he is. I'm pretty sure they're all over there. So... no need to panic, Katara. Okay?"

This last part she added in a gentler tone, hoping to soothe Katara's nerves a bit. Katara was still trembling from her fright, and from her angry indignation. Nevertheless, after a second, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down at least somewhat. It was okay—he was just over at the palace, just around the corner. No need to panic. It was fine. It was fine.

But why would he have gone there? What could be happening over there? Why would the Chief need to see him and Zuko? Why would they have just _left _so suddenly? Was it really so urgent that they couldn't have found a moment to come inform her, or see if perhaps she wanted to come with them? Hadn't Aang thought about it at all? Why wouldn't he have at least _told _her what was going on? How could he just leave without a word?

"I'm—I think I'm gonna take Appa and head over there too," she finally declared, still struggling to breathe normally. "I need to find out what's going on."

So saying, she promptly took off, racing back towards the stairs that led down to the first floor and the courtyard where Appa was resting. As she went, she turned and shouted back over her shoulder, "Tenzin—you stay here with Aunt Suki until I get back, okay?"

"Okay!" Tenzin called, knotting his brow with worried confusion.

Suki simply frowned, with a resigned sigh. "Oh... All right. Sure. I was planning on staying here anyway."

At last arriving back at the doors that led to the courtyard, Katara burst through them and out into the snow, racing towards Appa as fast as she could. The bison blinked at her, but began to stir to his feet as she clambered onto his back. She didn't even bother with his saddle—she was in too much of a hurry for that. Situating herself firmly on Appa's shoulders, she leaned down and clutched tightly at handfuls of his fur.

"Yip yip!" she cried, and Appa obediently flapped his tail and rose into the air.

They would have been at the palace in less than a minute—it was very close by, close enough to walk (though Katara had been too impatient for that as well). However, about two seconds after they'd launched into the air, Katara glanced down at the icy streets and canals of the city, and furrowed her brow in surprise and puzzlement at one of the figures she spotted shuffling uncertainly along a narrow lane below. It was Toph_._

Despite her anxiousness to get to the palace and find out what was going on (and find Aang) as soon as possible, Katara couldn't force herself to simply ignore the perplexing sight of Toph attempting to navigate the ice-covered streets on her own—especially since no one had seen Toph since before breakfast. So, scowling in frustration but unable to do anything else, Katara hastily brought Appa down to land on the nearest bridge, slipping to the ground and trotting quickly after her.

"Toph!" she shouted, overtaking her easily and catching her by the arm. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, hey, Katara," Toph waved her hand casually, with a shrug. "Nothing much. Don't worry about it. Hey—d'you think you could just give me a little shove in the direction of the Chief's Palace, real quick? I can do the rest myself. Thanks."

"_Toph!_" Katara growled sternly. "You're not wearing any shoes!"

Toph hesitated rather abashedly, and then shrugged again. "Oh, yeah... Guess I'm not, huh?"

With an aggravated sigh, Katara rubbed her forehead, then took hold of Toph's arm again, pulling her back towards Appa. "Come on. I was on my way to the palace too. We can go together on Appa. But first we're gonna go back to the healing house, and you're _going _to put on some shoes!"

"But—!" Toph protested. "But I can't see with shoes on!"

"You can't see anything outside here anyway! It's all covered with ice!"

"Well, I..." She trailed off awkwardly. "I... sort of can... a little? You know—it's not _all _ice... there's some dirt down there, kind of... _way _down there..."

But Katara would have none of it. She merely shook her head again, pushing Toph toward Appa briskly. "Look, I'm sorry, Toph. But I already saved your frozen feet once. I'm not doing that again."

* * *

><p>"Everyone," Aang addressed Chief Arnook and the Waterbenders currently holding Yonten prisoner, unable to keep a slight chuckle out of his voice. "This is really nothing to get so worked up about. He wasn't impersonating me. He's just an Airbender. We <em>all <em>sort of look like this..." He paused, glancing around at all of them. "I mean, you—you all knew that, right?"

"Avatar Aang," one of the Waterbender prison guards spoke up gravely, looking the tiniest bit irked. "We _know _what Airbenders look like."

"Not that we were expecting to actually, you know, see any. Other than you," put in his fellow guard hesitantly.

"The point is," said the first, with a small impatient roll of his eyes, "this Airbender and his friend deceived us deliberately to make us believe that he was you. They _insisted _that he was you. Just so that they could get into the prison without permission and—"

"Beat the snot out of our prisoner," the second one finished.

"Hm," Sokka frowned, scrutinizing Yonten with a bemused smirk. "Yeah. That _really _doesn't sound like something Baldy would do—"

"Oh, no," Yonten protested, with absolute serenity. "That's precisely what I did."

"Really?" Zuko crossed his arms incredulously. "You? _You _lied to the guards on purpose, to get in and beat up Azula without anyone knowing?... _You?_"

"Yes." Yonten nodded, with a casual shrug, as if nothing about this situation was troubling or even unusual to him in the slightest. "I did. I told them I was the Avatar. I showed them a little Airbending to convince them. Then I went into the prison and I—what was it you said?—beat the snot out of her. Yes, it was me."

Aang gaped at him rather disconcertedly as he said this. For a very brief instant, Yonten shifted his eyes, sensing Aang's disapproving stare, and his nonchalance wavered a bit. He dropped his eyes to the ground and shuffled his feet rather awkwardly, releasing a small, uncomfortable whistle.

"Nope. He's lying," Sokka proclaimed at once, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Sorry, little guy. I'm not buying it."

"But you said there was someone else with him too, right?" Aang asked the Waterbenders. "Yonten, who else was there?"

"No one," Yonten said quickly, his calm composure now clearly beginning to give way to ruffled dismay, though he was fighting desperately against it. "Just me. That's all."

"It was Toph," said Sokka, matter-of-factly.

"No!" Yonten protested again, growing more flustered by the second. "No. It was just me."

"Yonten," Zuko said, sternly—but, oddly, with genuine concern. "Don't lie anymore. They already said there was another person with you. You're just gonna make everything worse."

"It was Toph!" Sokka asserted bluntly again.

"No, it _wasn't _Toph!" Yonten insisted, frowning irritably. "It was—someone else..."

"It was a woman," the first guard spoke up again, glancing between Aang and Zuko. "Not very tall, black hair—"

Yonten hastily interjected again, "There are a million people who fit that description! It doesn't—"

"She was blind," the first guard went on.

"And she had kind of a bad attitude," added the second.

Aang, Zuko and Sokka all simply stared at Yonten expectantly.

At last, Yonten sighed in weary defeat, shutting his eyes and rubbing his forehead while his face began to turn red. "Fine. _Yes_. It was Toph."

"Ha! Called it!" Sokka grinned with satisfaction.

"Which, of course, would also explain how they got through the bars," Zuko remarked dryly.

"Fire Lord?" asked the first guard curiously.

"Toph's a Metalbender," Aang explained to the guards. "It's kind of her thing—well, _one _of her things. She's pretty famous for it, back in the Earth Kingdom."

"Ah." The first guard's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he glanced at his companion, who also looked rather stunned and slightly abashed.

"Oh," said the second guard. "Yeah—I think she—said something about that, actually... Now that you mention it."

"Well, that clears everything up pretty nicely, huh?" Sokka said. "Toph wanted to blow off some steam, she knew Baldy here was a sucker, so she got him to take her to the prison and pretend to be Aang to get her inside. Then she walked right through those bars, gave Azula a good beating, and BLAM. The end. Case closed."

"No," Yonten argued, rather forcefully, sending Sokka a severe look. "It wasn't anything like that. The entire business was _my _idea. I was the one who brought _her _there. I just needed her to help me get past the bars of Azula's cell, but that's all it was. The rest was me. I lied to the guards. I attacked Azula. It was all me. So—" He glanced at Aang again, with clear discomfort, and then at the Chief with a heavy sigh. "Do whatever you think is best. But don't punish Toph. She barely had anything to do with this."

"Yonten," Sokka said gravely, fixing the Airbender with a reprimanding frown. "Seriously? We all know that beating up Azula is something _Toph _would do, not you. Just give it up."

"Really, Yonten," Aang said, studying him worriedly. "I know you're just trying to protect her, but it would be best right now if you just told the truth."

Yonten stared hard back at Aang for a moment, wavering again, and opened his mouth to reply—but he was interrupted by the Chief.

"Aang, Fire Lord Zuko," Chief Arnook spoke for the first time since the beginning of the debate, deciding he'd heard enough for now. "I'll be honest, I don't really want to deal with something like this right now—"

"Then let us deal with it, Chief," Aang suggested hopefully. "Toph and Yonten are with us. And _I _was the one he was impersonating, but I'm not upset. I don't see any real need to punish either of them for that—"

"And also, with all due respect, Chief, Azula's _our _problem to deal with," Zuko added carefully. "If anyone's going to punish Toph and Yonten for attacking her in her cell without my knowledge, then I think it should be me. You shouldn't have to concern yourself with what happens to her."

"No, I shouldn't." Chief Arnook sighed, frowning. "But I _must _concern myself with her, whether I like it or not, as long as she's here. Considering how dangerous we all know she is, I feel as if I have a very sensitive bomb ticking silently under my city, ready to go off at the slightest mishandling. I can't just _ignore _what goes on in her cell. And, at any rate, this strange Airbender and his friend—they still directly lied to my royal guards, and broke into my prison. What they did wasn't just an offense to both of you; it was also a violation of our own laws, and a threat to our safety... Though, I admit, it _does _make me feel a bit better to at least know that these two are friends of yours. But even still. Suppose Azula had escaped somehow, because of them? Or suppose...?" He drifted off, massaging his temples wearily. "I just don't feel right letting something like this slide, without _some _kind of consequences."

"Chief Arnook," Yonten spoke up cautiously, "I understand the seriousness of what I've done, and I'm fully willing to accept the consequences. But, I ask again, don't punish Toph for this. As I said, _I _was the one who lied to the guards to get inside the prison. The only one who's broken any of your laws and threatened the safety of your citizens is me."

The Chief studied him, and was about to respond, when suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of gusting wind somewhere outside the palace, followed by a deep animal grunt and two female voices bickering sharply in the distance. Everyone in the chamber glanced blankly at one another for a moment, puzzled. Then—

"_Hey! Wait! Don't do anything yet!_"

It was Toph's voice that exploded abruptly into the chamber. They all turned, surprised, as Toph herself appeared in the entrance way, with Katara close behind. Toph was wearing heavy boots, and walking much more stiffly and clumsily than she usually did. She stumbled awkwardly into the room, facing the wrong way—then reached back gropingly for Katara, accidentally smacking her in the face and yanking on one of her hair loopies.

"_Ow! _Toph, quit it!" Katara snapped, swatting her hand away with an annoyed scowl. Then she took hold of Toph's shoulders, turned her so that she was facing in the right direction, and gave her a quick nudge forward.

"Thanks," Toph said, trotting in a straight line toward the others.

The entire chamber just watched her in complete silence as she stumbled ungracefully toward them. At last, she staggered into Sokka—and again reached out, groping at his face, causing him to lean away from her and squeak a bit in protest.

"Hey, hey! Personal space, Toph!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, it's just you, Sokka," she said dismissively. "Hey, could you help me out a second? I'm, uh, having some _sight _issues right now. Just show me where everyone is, please?"

Sokka sighed, taking hold of her arms obligingly and leading her towards Zuko. "Zuko's right here," he said, lifting her arm and smacking Zuko in the face with it.

"Ow! Watch it!" Zuko cried.

"And here's Aang." He led her towards Aang, and Toph reached up and began patting her hands over his face and across the top of his head.

"Yeah, _hi_, I'm here," Aang said awkwardly, tilting away from her and shutting his eyes to avoid having them poked out by her exploring fingers.

"You need to shave, dude," she commented.

Katara, meanwhile, quietly meandered across the chamber to stand beside Aang, taking his hand and crushing it anxiously. He glanced at her, and her eyes instantly told him that she had quite a lot to say to him—but they both remained silent, for now, while Sokka continued to lead Toph around.

"The Chief's over there," Sokka said, lifting Toph's arm and pointing it in the direction of Chief Arnook. "And your boyfriend's right over _here_."

"He's not my—!" Toph protested.

But Sokka abruptly shoved Toph in Yonten's direction, so that she collided clumsily with him, and he had to catch her and help steady her again. When she'd recollected her balance, she was blushing vibrantly, and she sent a vicious scowl in Sokka's general direction.

"I'm gonna get you for that, Sokka," she warned him. "Just wait."

Sokka merely snickered, completely unconcerned.

"What are you doing here?" Yonten demanded from her in a sharp whisper, frowning uneasily. But before Toph could answer him, Chief Arnook spoke again.

"Ahem," he said, scrutinizing Toph rather peevishly. "I, uh—I presume _you're _the accomplice, then? The Metalbender?"

"Sure am," Toph replied quickly, turning approximately toward the Chief—though her aim was still a bit off, and she ended up accidentally directing her speech more at Eska than at Chief Arnook. "Toph Beifong. Nice to meet you, Chief. I'm, er—yeah, sorry about all this mess. But I just wanted to say that the whole thing was my idea. I'm the _real _troublemaker. Pipsqueak here was just sort of roped into it. So whatever horrible punishment you've come up with—"

"Toph, stop," Yonten muttered urgently. "That isn't necessary. I have everything under control, all right? Just let me take care of it."

"Excuse me?" she scoffed at him, quite taken aback. "I believe what you _meant _to say was 'Thanks, Toph, it was really nice of you to come down here and bail me out! You really didn't have to do that.'"

"You _really _didn't have to," he scowled.

"Yeah, I _know _I didn't," she scowled as well, twice as petulantly. "But it turns out, crazily enough, I'm actually not a total asshole. You're _welcome_."

"Chief," Yonten turned away from her with an annoyed sigh. "Don't listen to what she says. I'm the one who deserves all the blame—"

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed fiercely.

"You see," he went on, simply ignoring her now, "my friend Toph here is merely a bit—uh, delusional—"

"_Delusional?!_"

"You mustn't listen to what she says," he insisted again. "As I've already told you, the entire affair was my own fault. So if there's to be any kind of punishment, it should all fall to me."

"Uh—ahem. Yeah, look, Chief," Toph spoke up again, shaking her head with a sour, baffled chuckle. "I don't know _what _this dope thinks he's trying to accomplish right now. But you can't seriously believe that he was the one who started all this? Does he really seem like the sort of guy who'd do that? I mean, _really?_"

"Well, no, but—" the Chief said slowly, but Toph just kept going.

"I mean, just listen to him talk!" she snickered. "All polite and everything. He's just not really the _rule-breaking _type, you know?"

"I've broken plenty of—!" Yonten began to protest indignantly, but this time he was interrupted by Chief Arnook.

"I'm not so sure about that, Miss Beifong," he said, fixing Yonten with a grave frown. "He _has _already lied to us, at least twice, just in the past few minutes."

"Wait—hold on." Toph suddenly looked rather alarmed. "What's he been saying?—Pipsqueak, what have you been telling them?"

Yonten simply shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Well, _first _of all," the Chief corrected him sternly, "he tried to insist that he was the only one present when the incident happened. Then he—"

But that one statement alone was enough to set Toph off in a burst of incredulous laughter.

"Wait, wait!" she gasped. "So—you mean, he was trying to tell all of you that he did this _all by himself?_ REALLY? No. Just—_no_. He's insane or something, if he thought anyone would actually buy that. You can't have thought... No, trust me, he's not _capable _of doing something like this on his own. I mean—come on! He's an Airbender, for crying out loud! All peaceful and spiritual and—y'know—_Airbendery!_ They don't even eat _meat!_ That's how squishy and sensitive they are! Right, Aang?"

"Uh—?" Aang stammered, caught off guard.

"Now _me _on the other hand," she went on, rather gleefully now, before Aang had a chance to reply, "I'm violent all the time! _Super _violent! Seriously. Just ask anyone. They'll tell you. Violence is practically my middle name. Toph Violence Beifong. Isn't that right, guys? Tell him, Sokka."

"Uh—?" Sokka stammered.

"She's really not as bad as all that, Chief." Yonten rolled his eyes, looking thoroughly irked. "She only likes people to _think _that she is. But she isn't really. In fact, she's quite sensitive herself, deep down. _Squishy_, one might even say—"

"_Pipsqueak!_" Toph snarled, flushing brightly—either from rage or mortification, or both.

"In any case," he went on, relentlessly, "her whole argument is invalid, and it has nothing to do with—"

"Hey, _Yon-TEN!_" she growled at him furiously, using his proper name for once and placing forceful emphasis on the second syllable to demonstrate that she meant serious business. "Do you _mind?_ I'm sort of trying to get you off the hook here!"

"Well, yes, I _do _mind," he retorted, glowering at her. "I didn't ask for you to get me off the hook. In fact, I was beginning to get rather comfortable on the hook—"

"What is your deal?!"

"What is _your _deal?"

"Look—I get what you're trying to do, and you really need to just—"

"Chief," he said loudly, disregarding her yet again, "as I was saying, Miss Beifong's entire argument is irrelevant to the situation. And, anyway, as you pointed out yourself, I have already lied to you several times just in the past few minutes. So clearly I am—"

"Chief!" she snapped, more loudly than him. "I think it's pretty obvious that _I'm _the real culprit here, and this moron is just lying to try to protect me or something, so—"

"_Chief_, I swear I am not lying to you now when I say that the entire thing _can _be blamed on me. Not that it was my idea, but that I am still to blame—"

"But he was just—"

"—You see, she is just about to tell you now that I was merely coerced by her into taking her to the prison, and that she forced me to pretend that I was the Avatar. But she didn't _force _me to do a single thing. I did it all of my own free will. So—"

"_Chief!_ Don't listen to him! He's going to try to twist it all around and make it seem like it's his fault somehow, with his sneaky... _sneak _logic! But he's only saying all this stuff because he's got a crush on me and doesn't want me to get punished—"

"_TOPH!_" Yonten flushed violently, eyes growing wide in horror.

Chief Arnook, meanwhile, was holding his head, feeling a massive migraine coming on.

"But _really_," Toph continued doggedly, "I'm the one who should get punished. I was behind the whole thing. I needed someone to guide me to the prison, so I talked him into it. And _I _was the one who told the guards that he was the Avatar, so I could get inside. _I'm_ the one who started it. He just went along with it. He's kind of a pushover that way—"

"I am not a—!"

"I just wanted to get in to see the prisoner. I had a score to settle with her, and I thought I could get in there without having to lie. But it turned out I couldn't, so—"

"Chief," Yonten interrupted her yet again, shaking his head and gathering together the most persuasive argument he could. "Do you really believe she could have forced me to do all that against my will? Yes, clearly, _she _thinks that she can. But I could have very easily refused to take her to the prison, and I could have very easily confessed my true identity to the prison guards at any moment. She would never have been able to get inside—she would not have even been able to _find _the prison—in other words, _none of this would have happened_ if I had simply refused to do any of that. But I did not. Therefore, the blame should fall to me."

"Pipsqueak! _Stop helping me!_" she bellowed at him in exasperation.

"But everything I just said was true!" he argued. "You can't deny that."

"I—I don't care!" she cried, sputtering confusedly in her frustration. "Just cut it out already! Let me take the punishment, all right? You _know _I'm the one who deserves it."

"No, I could have stopped you, and I didn't. That makes me just as deserving—"

"Look! I don't—I don't _need _any of your... Airbender-chivalry! Okay, pal? Just—"

"Ha! _Airbender-chivalry!_" He scoffed loudly, shaking his head with a fierce chuckle. "Honestly, do _you _even know what you're talking about?"

Aang, Katara, Sokka and Zuko had all been standing by, open-mouthed, simply watching this entire entertaining banter play out, all in speechless, baffled amusement. But at this point, Zuko leaned over to Sokka and whispered, "Man... I see what you mean, Sokka. They're practically married."

Sokka snickered deviously. "I'm telling ya."

Just at that moment, while Toph and Yonten were preparing to dive into a fresh round of bickering, two more figures came running anxiously into the chamber, both breathless and furious.

"_Toph!_" Iroh shouted sternly.

"_Yonten!_" cried Ursa, almost simultaneously.

Toph and Yonten both instantly fell utterly silent, blanching like children caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

"What have you _done_, Toph?" Iroh demanded, approaching the group with a stern glower.

"Uh—" she stuttered sheepishly.

"Yonten, what is this all about?" said Ursa, trotting up alongside Iroh and fixing the Airbender with a scolding frown.

"Erm—" he mumbled, scratching his bald head awkwardly.

"I heard that you broke into Azula's prison cell!" Iroh growled.

"You lied to the Chief's Waterbenders!" Ursa exclaimed.

"Why would you do that? What were you thinking?!"

"You pretended to be the Avatar? Have you lost your mind?!"

"And just _what _exactly were you planning to do, Toph?"

"Did you even _think _about what might have happened, Yonten?"

"It isn't like you to do something like this!"

"You _really _should have known better!"

"It was a very foolish thing to do—!"

"_Completely _foolish—!"

_"_I'm _very_ surprised at you."

_"_I don't know what got into you!"

"I expect much better from you than this!"

Toph and Yonten were both rapidly reduced to miserable puddles of shame by the end of this sudden double-scolding—but Chief Arnook, who had quite a monstrous migraine by now, finally rose to his feet and silenced them all with a firm wave of his hand.

"That's enough!" he declared loudly. Then, sighing exhaustedly and rubbing his forehead again, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, and at last turned his irritated gaze upon Toph and Yonten.

"_Community service_," he announced, almost offhandedly—clearly just trying to get all this nonsense over with. "Both of you. _There_. If the Avatar or the Fire Lord feels the need to punish you further for your actions, then I'll leave that to them. But for deceiving my guards and breaking into my prison: community service. For the remainder of your stay here, you'll help out with cleaning and maintaining the canals down in the lower tiers of the city. Okay? Does that seem fair?"

"Uh-h-h," Toph said slowly, her face burning with faint dismay, shifting her booted feet uncomfortably. "Yeah... Chief? I may have... a slight problem... actually _doing _that. See, I'm—"

She was just about to explain, in great detail, her very unfortunate state of not being able to see anything in a city covered with ice. But the Chief interrupted her with another dismissive hand wave, eager to be done with both of them. "You seem like you're _perfectly _capable of finding a way, Miss Beifong. Now, go on, please—both of you. Just go. My assistant Eska will be waiting for you to report for work tomorrow morning. _Go_."

Toph's face fell into a deep frown, somewhere between irritated impatience and thoroughly humiliated distress. She opened her mouth to protest again—but then thought better of it, closing her mouth once more. Even without the use of her Earthbending sight, she could sense that arguing with the Chief at the moment would probably just make the situation worse.

The Waterbending guards from the prison quickly stepped forward to escort the two of them out of the Chief's Palace at once. As they neared the entrance, however, Toph heard someone trotting after them, and felt a hand catch her arm.

"Hey—Toph?" It was Zuko, speaking in a grave whisper. "Can I—can I ask you something, before you go?"

"What?" she sighed, rather dejectedly.

"Why...?" He hesitated, sounding almost a little bewildered, as if he wasn't sure why he needed to ask her the question, or what he wanted her answer to be. But, after a moment, he asked it anyway: "When you were in Azula's cell... why didn't you—why didn't you _do _it?"

Toph didn't reply immediately; she stewed in a deep pensive silence, considering the question. She knew exactly what he meant, of course: why hadn't she just killed Azula? Why hadn't she taken that opportunity to do away with this burden, this curse on all of their lives? Why hadn't she given Azula the punishment she really deserved, but Zuko hadn't the heart to deal out to her himself?... Why hadn't she done what she'd seriously considered doing before going to the prison—what she'd really _intended _to do when she went?

A few different answers crossed her mind, some more honest than others. But at last, she simply breathed, and whispered curtly: "It was too easy."

The moment she said it, she rather regretted it—but she didn't allow the regret to show. She knew it was certainly one of the _least _truthful answers she might have given him... Not that it wouldn't have been easy. No, no—it would have been preposterously easy for her to do it, to have it over with, and let that be that. But she knew very well that it wasn't the lack of a challenge that had held her back in Azula's cell.

Nevertheless, that small sharp answer did help to somewhat alleviate her humiliation, for the moment. It made her feel, just a little, that she really _could _have done it, that it wasn't a big deal at all—and the only thing that had stopped her was the brutal, apathetic desire for a challenge. It made her feel a little less helpless, for the time being—a little less weak—which, really, was _all _she felt that she was right now. And it kept her from having to admit to herself that, no matter how much she loathed Azula for what she'd done to her—Azula was still actually human, after all.

She could sense that Zuko was a bit unsettled by her answer, though she couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed that she hadn't done it—or that she hadn't had a better reason not to. But, after a pause, he merely sighed, gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, and shuffled off without another word.

When she and Yonten were ejected rather forcefully from the palace, emerging back out into the bright sunlight, snow was falling again, and Toph's boots slipped a bit on the icy ground.

"Well, that really sucked," she remarked bitterly. "So—which way's the healing house from here?"

"Uh—" Yonten began, but before he could actually reply, she took a step forward and slipped again, losing her balance and falling clumsily onto her rear.

"_Damn _this ice!" she thundered furiously, grinding her teeth while her cheeks flushed again, as if she were nearly on the brink of tears—or of a violent rampage. Possibly both. "And these shoes too! And—_ugh!_"

"Do you need help?" he offered, rather uneasily, as she pushed herself shakily back to her feet. He wasn't sure whether he was feeling unusually aggravated at her or unusually fond of her at the moment—and he was also unsure how fiercely she might be opposed to receiving help just now.

Toph's frustration was rising to a vicious boil inside of her.

"I _hate _this city," she declared passionately, with a bitter scowl.

Not being able to see anything outside the house—not being able to _go _anywhere, even just around the corner, without being led like a dog on a leash—

Toph kicked the icy ground, resentful of it for denying her her usual sight. Yonten just watched her, a little afraid of her temper, a little hesitant to offer her help again—even if she needed it—for fear of just making her _more _angry.

"Yeah," she finally sighed, blowing at her long bangs. "This whole place just really isn't working for me... If I just had some kind of—transportation, or something, it would be a little bit better, but..."

Suddenly, an interesting thought struck her. A possible solution. It wasn't _ideal_, no. But it would be somewhat more agreeable than having to be led everywhere like a helpless infant—at least, until she could come up with a better solution. And on top of that... it would be entertaining. In fact—she began to chuckle just at the very notion of it.

"What?" Yonten asked, feeling rather nervous about the way she was chuckling.

"Just had an idea." She grinned, taking another second or two to ponder it, before finally settling on the decision to do it. Then she turned toward Yonten, reaching for his arm. "Hold still a second."

"What—?"

But before he was able to finish his baffled question, she'd come around behind him and leapt onto his shoulders. He grunted in surprise, stumbling beneath her sudden weight, recovering his balance with a gasping puff of air that stirred up the snow around them. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck to hold herself up, and he grasped hastily at her legs to keep her from slipping off again. After a few moments of clumsy adjustment, they'd balanced themselves, and Toph snickered with delight.

"Yeah, that'll do!" she declared, throwing her arm forward. "Now—yip yip, Pipsqueak!"

Yonten frowned irritably. "Do I look like a flying bison to you, Miss Beifong?"

She snickered, with a devious grin. "Nope! You know what you _do _look like to me, though?"

He adjusted her weight again, renewing his grip on her with a grunt. "_What?_"

A long, meaningfully empty silence.

At first, Yonten furrowed his brow, confused about why she wasn't saying anything. Then, all at once, he understood—and blushed awkwardly.

"Oh, right," he stammered, coughing a little. "Sorry."

Toph just laughed once more as soon as it hit him, amused by his embarrassment, and also strangely relieved to joke about her blindness again.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Aang took Katara aside, touching her arm and scrutinizing her carefully. He couldn't help but notice that she'd been boiling quietly beside him ever since her arrival, and that she looked decidedly agitated. "What's going on? What's the matter?"<p>

She gave him a piercing, pained look—but her eyes flickered with doubt, and she bit her lip and shook her head, breathing deeply. "Nothing. It's nothing."

He frowned at her in bewilderment. "Katara, what's wrong? You seem like you have something on your mind. I mean, _a lot_—"

"No, it—it's all right," she sighed, releasing the air with calculated calmness. "It's stupid. It doesn't matter now. I was just... I don't know. But I'm fine now, so it doesn't matter."

"Are you—are you mad at me, or something?" She seemed as if she was; or, at least, she seemed thoroughly unsettled by something he'd done. But he couldn't imagine what it was, or why.

Probing him with another troubled gaze, she restrained herself from speaking for a moment. Then at last, she muttered a small, timid, "No." Her face flushed slightly, and she dropped her eyes almost ashamedly to the ground. "No, I'm not mad at you. It's just—"

He watched her shut her eyes tightly, fiercely struggling with something deep inside herself—and his own heart stuttered anxiously, sick with suspense: what was she going to say? what had he done wrong this time? was the end already beginning?—He'd been expecting it, but not _this _fast.

"Why didn't you tell me where you were?" she finally burst, very softly, her voice straining a bit. She looked back up at him, eyes swimming both with bitter hurt and with apologetic embarrassment for being hurt.

That took him by surprise.

"Oh... um... I'm sorry?" he stammered, flustered and baffled. "We—we kinda left in a hurry. I didn't have any time to really... But I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I mean, we didn't exactly _go _very far..." He almost added that he had no idea she would actually care so much, that he hadn't even _thought _about it—but he decided perhaps it might be best to just stop there.

"No, I know, I'm sorry," she grimaced, pressing her fingers into her forehead for a moment. "You're right. It's _not _a big deal. I'm not mad at you or anything, really. You didn't do anything wrong. But..."

She paused again, fighting with her words, and once more he watched her, churning with increasingly perturbed puzzlement that she'd gotten so worked up over this.

"I'm sorry, Aang," she sighed again, wearily. "You just—you have to understand... after everything that's happened, it's—it's a little hard for me, when you just disappear like that without warning. Especially since—you've only actually been _here _again for a really short time. You know?"

She gazed at him rather sadly, pleading with him to understand.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong," she insisted, just to be perfectly clear. "It's completely _my _problem. I overreacted, that's all. I guess I'm still a—a little paranoid. Sorry." She chuckled a bit, ruefully, then sent him another earnest, beseeching look. "But I still... I need you to realize that it's hard for me. It's something I've still got to get over, and it may take some time for things to be normal again. So... just keep that in mind. Okay?"

He stared at her, brow still knotted, feeling utterly mystified and mildly frustrated. But he _did _understand: he did at least see where her distress came from, and he felt more than a little guilty for not having thought about it at all, about what it must be like for her.

But, even still—it wasn't like he'd left the city or something. He hadn't even left the neighborhood: the palace was just around the corner from the healing house, just a short walk. And he was only going to be gone for a few minutes. And it wasn't like he'd just run off alone, either; he'd been with Sokka and Zuko the whole time. (And somehow, that last protest—as if he needed Sokka and Zuko to be his chaperones or babysitters or something—made him feel even more chagrined, merely because it had occurred to him). Anyway, he was the Avatar: people needed him, and they were going to _keep _needing him—even more so now that he'd been missing for five years. She couldn't really expect to be able to monitor him every minute of the day, like he was a child. She couldn't really expect him to _always _be able to keep her informed about _every _little thing he did. He could try, but—it just wasn't reasonable. And she'd never needed that or expected that from him before.

He could feel the headache and the cold creeping up on him again; his symptoms had quieted down somewhat during the whole Toph-and-Yonten situation—but here they came again, surging up from wherever they'd been hiding. Once more his heart began gnawing at him, screaming, panicking—the feeling of being trapped, tricked, ensnared, suffocated, unable to fly away—the powerlessness of being a novelty instead of a person—the anxiety that she thought of him as a helpless child, and that he felt rather like one right now... What was he supposed to _do?_ What did she _want_ from him? Who did she think he was, really? Who was she now? Did they know each other at all anymore? When would it all fall apart again?—Surely any moment, any moment now—already he could feel the cracks forming...

Shaking his head fiercely, he scowled and shoved all these unsettling things deeper down inside himself. He tried to muster a smile for her—but he couldn't—so he simply shut his eyes tight and nodded at the ground, and breathed out sharply through his nose. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry."

Suddenly—much to his astonishment and annoyance—she burst into quiet chuckles at him.

He gaped at her, frowning. "_What?_"

"Sorry," she murmured contritely, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to conceal her small spurt of laughter; but her eyes glistened with undisguised delight. "Sorry, you just—you looked so... _cranky_, for a second there. It—you reminded me of Tenzin. He makes that same exact face sometimes."

He just stared blankly then, entirely uncertain how to react to that: whether to be humiliated and peeved again that she was comparing all his deep inner troubles to a five-year old's tantrum, or whether to share in her delighted amusement that Tenzin had apparently inherited his cranky-face.

"Oh, Aang, I'm _really _sorry," she finally sighed, grinning again, but with her chuckles back under control. "I didn't mean to make you upset—I mean, about the not-telling-me-where-you-were-going thing. It really _isn't_ a big deal. That's why I was—I _was _just not going to say anything about it at all. Though I guess it's probably better that you know that about me... But—really, please don't be upset..."

Glowing gently, she abruptly stepped forward and put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. The gesture was so sudden that it took him by surprise again, and immediately his heart was battering itself against his chest, and his arms were around her too—almost instinctively—and he shut his eyes and breathed and breathed and tried very, very hard not to think about the screaming, piercing panic thudding viciously through his head.

"I just care about you, that's all," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "You—you know that, right?"

Did he? Well—yes, he did. He did know. It was impossible not to see it.

And yet—and yet—who _was _it she cared about, exactly? Who was it she thought he was? What over-idealized and/or helplessly fragile version of himself did she believe she was holding in her arms right now? And when... when would it finally hit her that he wasn't quite _that_, whatever it was? When would the disillusionment set in again? Would she still care about him the same way then?

How much longer now?

Every inch of him ached unbearably at the thought—and he held her tighter, as tightly as he could, hurting with how much he loved her, willing her fiercely to never stop being exactly the way she was at this moment. But he knew it wouldn't last, even still.

"Yeah," he finally exhaled, painfully. "I know, Katara."

"Good," she sighed, sounding almost relieved. Then she leaned back, and gave him a very serious smile. "So, um... now that all this stuff with Toph and Yonten is over, I guess I was kind of hoping that you and me could, uh... talk about a few things—"

"Aang, Katara..." Zuko interrupted them, in a weary and unhappy tone, before Aang had a chance to start feeling properly anxious about what exactly Katara wished to talk to him about. Zuko strolled up to the two of them, attempting to massage the stress out of his brow—but suddenly, as he looked at them, some realization sparked in his eyes, and his face fell instantly into a state of nervous embarrassment. Almost instinctively, he stopped walking and took a step back. "Oh—sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt—I mean, if you were—?"

"No—no—it's fine—don't worry about it, Zuko," Aang and Katara both said (approximately), in a hasty, simultaneous jumble.

Zuko got the gist of their jumble, and looked rather relieved that he hadn't accidentally intruded on some important private conversation going on between them. Stepping back toward them, he resumed his tired gravity with a sigh. "Okay, well, uh... since almost everyone's here right now, the Chief and I figured maybe this would be a good time to... to talk about the whole Azula situation and what we're going to do about it. So—?"

"Oh," Aang blinked, a little thrown off—he hadn't really expected to be drawn into dealing with that problem so soon. But after a moment, he nodded at Zuko. "Yeah. Sure, that's probably a good idea. We'll be there in a second."

But a flash of faint uneasiness had crossed Katara's face as soon as Zuko mentioned Azula's name. Of course, she instantly recalled (though she'd almost forgotten) what Zuko had told all of them he planned to do with his sister: to have Aang take her bending away. She hadn't felt very comfortable with the idea even a few days ago, when Zuko had first announced it; now, she felt even less comfortable with it, in no small part because it seemed much, _much_ too soon to go dragging Aang so deeply into the situation, when he'd only been awake for a few hours now. And, of course, Aang had no idea at the moment that so much was about to be placed on his shoulders; the thought of it made her stomach knot with worry and wrongness.

She shot Zuko a stern look, trying to communicate all of these thoughts to him through her eyes. He met her gaze, but seemed either to not understand her meaning, or to purposefully refuse to understand.

Meanwhile, Aang glanced back at her and saw the piercing look she was giving Zuko, and didn't understand it either—though, he thought, perhaps she was annoyed that Zuko had interrupted their conversation. Perhaps she wanted the two of them to have their private talk more than she wanted to help Zuko with his "Azula situation." Perhaps—Aang thought with some small panic again—perhaps he ought to give her her talk first, before he bothered with Zuko's problems, for fear that she'd get upset at him again, the way she had about his leaving the healing house without telling her.

"Um—I mean... if—is that—okay with you... Katara?" he stumbled hesitantly, fixing her with a questioning gaze.

She released Zuko from her troubled stare, and turned her eyes back to Aang, blinking at him and wrinkling her brow in mild bewilderment. "Hm?"

"Unless you—unless you wanted to have that talk first?" he asked, a little nervously.

"Oh." She stared at him, and then finally shook her head, with a small, quiet laugh. "No, it can wait, Aang... Thanks for asking, though." Then she glanced at Zuko again, resignedly, and sighed. "Well... let's get this over with, I guess."

* * *

><p>They assembled in a circle around the Chief's chamber, seated on the floor and the steps, with Chief Arnook himself in his usual spot at the top of the steps. The Waterbenders from the prison had returned to their posts by now, and most of Chief Arnook's assistants and councilors had departed to deal with other matters, so the group consisted only of the Chief, Zuko, Aang, Katara, Sokka, Iroh and Ursa.<p>

A couple of days before, Zuko had informed Chief Arnook of his plan to have Aang take Azula's bending away, assuring him that all there was left to do was to convince Aang of the necessity of it. And once Aang saw that (which he surely would), then the problem would be taken care of swiftly and quietly. Nevertheless, Chief Arnook seemed anxious now, concerned perhaps that convincing Aang to do it might not be as effortless as Zuko seemed to think it would be. But he kept mostly silent throughout, allowing Zuko to do the majority of the talking.

The first step, of course, was to make the situation as clear to Aang as possible—to make absolutely _sure _Aang understood why this needed to be done. Zuko resolved to postpone actually mentioning the idea of removing Azula's Firebending until he felt confident that Aang had a clear enough picture of their quandary, for fear that Aang might simply revolt against the idea prematurely. And so, when they had all seated themselves around the chamber and commenced the council, Zuko began at the beginning, explaining how Azula had initially escaped prison five years ago, how she'd become obsessed with destroying everyone who she thought had contributed in any way to her first downfall during Sozin's Comet, how she did seem to have some vague, delusional goal of eventually reclaiming the throne of the Fire Nation—though, by this time, none of them were really sure that she actually _cared _about that at all anymore. Not as much as she cared about simply ruining all their lives in any horrific way she could.

Although Zuko began the explanation on his own, Katara and Sokka soon jumped in as well, augmenting his tale with their own perceptions and experiences of Azula's madness; now and again they were accompanied by Iroh too, whenever he felt he had something of worth to add. Aang absorbed it all intently—as did Chief Arnook, who until now had only a hazy idea of the extent of Azula's devastation and dementia. But after a few minutes, just as Zuko was beginning to explain how Azula had outwitted him and followed him from the Fire Nation to the North Pole, Chief Arnook was called away by some other pressing business. As he reluctantly rose to leave, he asked them all to please come inform him as soon as a decision had been made, and then he departed, while the rest of them remained in his chamber and continued the story.

Ursa, much like she had at breakfast, remained mostly silent throughout the council—partially because she had not been present for many of the events being recounted, but more because she too was beginning to form a fuller grasp of her daughter's long depravity, and it overwhelmed her into troubled silence. Like Katara, she remembered very well where this conversation was eventually going to lead—to Zuko asking the Avatar to remove Azula's Firebending—and also like Katara, she'd been feeling rather unsettled about the whole idea from the beginning, though it was certainly preferable to _death_. But still. The more she thought about it, the more awful it seemed to her—and Zuko's tale, though meant to inspire horror and outrage and a stronger determination to do whatever it took to subdue Azula, instead began to stir up pity and grief deep within Ursa. She began to feel more and more that there was something dreadfully wrong in the prospect of what they planned to do—though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Still, she tried to suppress her own uneasiness, imagining that it simply stemmed from the fact that Azula was, and always would be, her daughter. She could never escape that, nor could she escape the lingering guilt that haunted her: the feeling that she herself was somehow responsible for Azula's madness, and that she'd only exacerbated it more when she'd double-crossed Azula on the ship. And, no matter how necessary it probably was, the thought of Azula—beaten down, betrayed, locked in heavy shackles deep in the icy cliffs—having her Firebending taken away from her without warning... That great talent that she'd always been so proud of, that she'd always been praised for, that she'd centered her entire life around, that had always been such an essential part of who she was—gone in an instant, in the midst of everything else she'd lost. It was awful to think about too much; but Ursa kept herself silent, repressing these distressed thoughts, certain that it was only her motherly attachment that made them feel so bitterly dreadful.

But then again—she kept a close watch on the young Avatar all throughout the council, and saw that his eyes were churning with the same pity and grief that she herself was feeling. They hadn't told him yet what it was they wished him to do, and already he looked overcome simply by the tragedy of how far Azula had fallen, rather than by the horror of all she'd done. Ursa wondered, perhaps, if he wasn't going to be willing to do the task after all, once Zuko finally arrived at the point; and the thought made her feel somehow both nervous and relieved simultaneously, though she wasn't sure how that worked.

Oddly, Ursa found herself feeling rather anxious for the Avatar in general, the more she studied him. She couldn't help having something of a soft spot for Airbenders, after all she'd experienced the past sixteen years, and finally seeing another Airbender around besides Yonten (not that he wasn't enough on his own, certainly, but still) cheered her heart and flooded her with wistful nostalgia—admittedly, in part, because something in the boy's face and mannerisms distantly reminded her of her dear lost Tseten. Yet he also made her feel sad, sad for him, because he seemed so troubled and confused, though he was making a courageous effort to hold himself together, and though no one else seemed able to see it (except Iroh, perhaps)—and also because she knew what Zuko was about to ask of him, and because of her own uncertainty about what he would decide to do with Azula when the time came, and also because...

There was something wrong. She knew Iroh had seen it too, all morning. Since she herself wasn't familiar with the Avatar and the way he'd been before all this, she had nothing with which to compare his behavior now; but Iroh _had _known him before, of course, for quite a while, and Iroh seemed quite concerned about him, though Ursa hadn't had a chance to ask him what he thought was wrong. But there was _something_—some unnaturalness haunting the young Airbender, like a shadow falling against the light rather than away from it. And he kept shuddering intermittently and pressing his hands against his temples, as if his head were causing him pain, all the while doing his best to hide it from Katara—Katara, who kept trying to come close, trying to unleash all her pent up affection on him, which only made him behave in a way reminiscent of a frightened bird in a cage. Ursa saw it all so clearly, and it filled her with sorrow; she wondered how in the world Katara _couldn't _see it—though, she imagined, the poor girl was probably much too close to see it, too blinded by the happiness of finally having her love returned to her after all this time.

What would come of that? Ursa wondered. Surely it wouldn't be good, wherever it went when it finally reached its breaking point.

And then, there was Zuko—Zuko and Katara—and when they spoke together, there was such familiarity, such an understanding of one another. More than half of the things they said to one another happened silently through their eyes. And Zuko's lingering attachment even still blazed behind his countenance, and he flinched noticeably at each gesture of affection between Katara and Aang. But Ursa saw remnants in Katara as well: her incomplete love, still doggedly alive, even in the presence of her newly-revived complete love, as if the two loves had nothing to do with and were even entirely unaware of one another, though they both dwelt within her.

_An__yone would see it... if they were paying attention._

It certainly wasn't the same, of course—no, not the same as with the Avatar. But Ursa still could see the hints of it, even now. And she wondered, and feared, that perhaps the Avatar might see it too. What would happen then, if he did? Would he understand?... She didn't know him well enough to predict whether he would or not.

As Ursa watched the three younger people, speculating and worrying about the unspoken dynamics between them, while they were all deeply immersed in their conversation about Azula—she suddenly felt the pressure of Iroh's gaze on her. Glancing at him, she saw that he was giving her a very strange look, his gray eyebrows raised with something like teasing sarcasm. She blushed faintly, with the feeling that he was surreptitiously scolding her somehow for worrying about such things right now, when there was Azula to worry about—and Azula was more than enough. Ursa couldn't imagine how Iroh had managed to read her mind, though. Perhaps, she thought with some mild consternation, she was just as much of an open book as her dear, impulsive, troubled son was.

At last, Zuko drew near to the end of his explanation of how they'd finally managed to capture Azula—he'd left quite a few of the more gruesome details out still, but he felt the time had come, that Aang knew enough—and so arrived at the dismal statement that everything else had merely been building to:

"We need you to take her bending away, Aang."

Zuko stared very solemnly at the Avatar as he said this; Aang was silent for a long time afterward. He held Zuko's stare for a few seconds, studying him in slight surprise and discomfort, and then dropped his eyes to the ground, pondering deeply. Everyone watched him intently, waiting for his response—and Katara's eyes especially churned with concern.

"That's—" Aang finally spoke again, quietly, with a heavy sigh, "that seems—that seems a little _drastic_..."

"It is," Zuko nodded quickly, with a grim frown. "I know it is. And I know it's probably a lot to ask from you right now, but—"

"Are you sure it's really necessary?" Aang asked, a grave knot of trouble in his brow. "I mean, I'd be willing to do it, if I have to, but... I'd rather not. Not unless there's no other choice."

"Unfortunately," Iroh sighed, "there _isn't _another choice. Believe me, we did not arrive at this decision lightly. You are very truly our last resort."

"This is what Azula's driven us to, Aang," Zuko pleaded with him, beginning to fear that perhaps he'd made the request too soon, that perhaps Aang hadn't yet gotten a clear enough understanding of the situation. "The only other option we have right now is to—is to just _end _her. But... I can't do that. None of us can. And I know you wouldn't want that, either."

"No," Aang exhaled carefully, struggling with his thoughts.

"Aang," Katara said softly, probing him again with her eyes. "Listen, if you don't want to do this, then..."

He glanced at her, his gaze faltering with uncertainty. "I don't know," he murmured, looking back at Zuko. "I'm just not sure I feel right about this, Zuko. Are you _sure _there's no other way? Maybe we could try to—"

But Zuko shook his head insistently. "Aang, listen," he tried again, somber and sorrowful, "I understand why you'd feel uncomfortable with this. I get why you wouldn't feel right just walking in there and _doing _it, without having been around all this time. Believe me, I really get it. But—you've got to trust us on this. You don't know—you don't know what she's like now. She was always bad before, but it's even worse now. You haven't seen her for the past few years—everything she's done. She murdered Mai—"

"I know that," Aang said in a remorseful hush.

"You _don't _know," Zuko protested intensely, faintly quivering. "She attacked her in the streets, when no one expected it. She caught her by surprise and slit her throat, and left her to bleed out alone in an alley. And I..." He trailed off, unable to continue, still overwhelmed with the horror and grief of it.

"She's murdered countless others, too," Iroh added, when Zuko could not go on. "Soldiers and civilians—people who had nothing to do with her, simply because they were in her way, or because she wished to send a message to the rest of us."

"It's been a nightmare, Aang," Sokka nodded, with a dark grimace. "The way she's been hunting us, all of us, for years. Suki and I—we've hardly been able to _sleep _at night, without being afraid of what she might do."

"She destroyed my teashop," Iroh put in then, scowling with fury at the memory. "Destroyed it, and very nearly took young Ursa and myself out with it."

"She threatened Tenzin too," Zuko went on, having recovered himself; he spoke more quietly now, but his voice was like a slicing blade. "That was one of the main reasons we left the Fire Nation. She told me, specifically, that she was going to kill him—that she'd slit his throat. That he'd be a good substitute for _you_, since you weren't around."

At that, Aang cringed, his stomach curdling in horror. And Katara shuddered beside him.

"She broke into his room, back in the Fire Nation," Zuko continued. "Almost slit his throat while he slept. We only barely stopped her in time."

"And she... she almost killed him again on the way here," Katara added in a hoarse whisper, shuddering again violently. "On the ship. She threw him overboard. I—I watched her do it. If I hadn't been there..." Now her voice trailed off tremulously, but she managed to go on after a moment. "She almost killed Zuko then, too. It took me all night to heal him. He almost didn't make it at all."

Then Ursa shuddered, in much the same way as Katara, remembering the misery of that long, dark night. With an unsteady sigh, she added softly, "And when she commandeered our ship... She hung Toph up from a crane. She hung her in the air, tied up, for days, up in the cold and the elements with nothing to eat or drink. And with the bombs she planted on the ship, there was nothing we could do to stop her or save Toph... You already know. We all only narrowly escaped that ship with our lives."

"And Toph was—she was almost gone, when we finally got to her," Sokka nodded, shaking his head fiercely, as if to shake away the image of Toph the way he'd found her that day: the color of a corpse, covered in frost, arms caked with dried blood and burns from the ropes. "And she was _that _close to losing her feet from frostbite. That's bad enough on it's own—but this is _Toph_. Think of what that _means_, for her. It was... it was bad, Aang. You wouldn't believe it, even if you'd seen it."

"And now," Zuko exhaled wearily, "yes, we do have her locked up. But we all know she's escaped prison before, and she could do it again. She's secure now, but—but obviously we can't just leave her here forever. We've got to get her back to the Fire Nation. But after all that's happened, it's way too dangerous to take such a long trip with her as our prisoner... That's why we need you to take her bending away."

"It will still be dangerous, of course," Iroh said. "But as it is now, we do not dare to even _attempt_ such a journey. With her bending gone, at least it will be feasible."

"And we need to do it soon," Zuko added. "As soon as possible. Preferably now."

The group fell silent once more, and everyone again turned their eyes to Aang, anxious to hear what he had to say.

After several long moments, Aang sighed again heavily. His headache was still pulsing—it hadn't stopped—now beginning to rise up into another of those sharp, vicious peaks. He pressed his fingers against his temples in a vain attempt to subdue it.

"I understand," he finally said, though his voice still wavered with uncertainty. "But... well. I've got to be honest, I—I still don't really feel completely okay with taking away her bending, unless she's posing an immediate threat—"

"She _is_, Aang," Zuko insisted urgently. "I still don't think you realize... She's a constant threat. She's _been _a constant threat, for five years. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Even right now, while she's locked up, she still is. I mean, just look at what happened with Toph and Yonten this morning: what they did shouldn't have been _that _big of a deal, but look how crazy everything got. Look at how paranoid everyone is—look at what we have to go through to make sure she's contained. She's too smart and too ruthless for her own good. The longer she stays here in prison, the higher the chances are of her finding some way to escape. And as long as she's here she's also a burden to Chief Arnook, and a danger to everyone in the North Pole." He sighed again, with thorough exhaustion. "And I... I feel responsible for bringing her here. And especially considering that things are still a little bit—_tense_, between the Water Tribe and the Fire Nation, I can't let this situation go on any longer. I have to do everything in my power to make sure she's as little of a burden and a threat as possible, until I can get her out of the city." He fixed Aang with another beseeching stare. "You see what I mean?"

"Yeah," Aang said slowly, rubbing his forehead wearily. "I see where you're coming from, Zuko. I just—I don't know. I wasn't really expecting to have to deal with something like this right now..."

"You shouldn't have to," Katara interjected then, with quiet conviction. Her uneasiness about the whole idea had been growing and growing throughout the conversation—and seeing Aang's clear discomfort and uncertainty only affirmed it. "Aang, if you really don't feel right about it, then we can find another way."

"Katara," Zuko interrupted, shooting her a rather wounded look, as if she'd betrayed him when he was counting on her to help. "There _isn't _another way. You know there isn't." Then he examined Aang regretfully. "Aang, listen... I get that this is a lot to ask of you, right after you've woken up. I wish I didn't have to. Obviously, if I could just do it myself, I would. But you're the only one who—"

"Hold on, Zuko," Katara shot him a scolding frown. "Don't do that. Don't tell him he's the only one. You can't just dump this whole thing completely onto his shoulders like that. That isn't fair."

"Katara—" Aang said quietly, but Zuko cut him off.

"I'm not _trying _to dump it all on him," Zuko argued, growing inflamed at her a little more rapidly than was warranted. "I don't have a choice. Something has to be done, and he's literally the only one who can do it. That's not _my _fault—"

"You can't put all this pressure on him!" she protested, also becoming rather excessively defensive, provoked by Zuko's temper. "Not right now, at least. He hasn't even been awake for half a day yet! He hasn't had any time to recover!"

"Katara—" Aang tried again.

"Well, what do you suggest we _do_, then?" Zuko retorted. "We don't have any other options!"

"I'm—I'm sure there's something else," she faltered, shaking her head. "Something we haven't thought of yet..."

"Like _what_, Katara?" Zuko demanded, almost shouting now.

"Well—I don't know!" she growled, also almost shouting. "I'm sure we could think of _something_, if we actually tried! But you don't want to do that! You just want Aang to give you an easy way out—"

"I don't want an _easy _way out, Katara! I just want a _way _out. Any way out."

"I just don't think it's fair to—"

"_Katara._" Aang finally managed to insert himself into their heated debate, putting a hand on her tense shoulders. "Stop. It's all right. I'll do it."

"You will?" Zuko's eyes suddenly lit up hopefully.

"But—" she stumbled, her own eyes storming with anxiety. "Aang? Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded solemnly at her, with a small reassuring smile. "I can take care of it."

"But—are you _sure?_" she asked again, frowning doubtfully. "I mean, maybe you should take a day or two to think about it, at least—?"

But he shook his head. "No. Zuko's right. If she's a danger to everyone, then she needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. And I _am _the only one who can do that. So—"

"But earlier you said that you didn't—?"

"_Katara_," he said again, with firm insistence. "Listen—I appreciate what you're trying to do. Really. But you don't have to. I'm _fine_, okay? And I want to help. Besides..." He couldn't help giving her a subtle, gently reprimanding smirk. "It's kind of my job to deal with situations like this, remember?"

She blinked at him, flushing slightly.

"And," he went on, somberly, "considering that I haven't actually been around to _do _my job for the past five years, I'd really like to get back to it as soon as possible."

She looked as if she felt exceedingly foolish. "Um... okay," she hesitated, nodding quickly and staring hard at the ground. "Okay, Aang. If that's—if that's really what you think is best."

"It is," he assured her. Then he glanced up at Zuko. "Let's go take care of it now, Zuko. The sooner the better, right?"

Zuko looked immensely relieved. He rose to his feet at once, and everyone else followed suit.

"Thanks, Aang," Zuko breathed. Then he turned to Sokka. "Sokka, could you go find the Chief and tell him what's going on?"

"Sure thing," Sokka nodded promptly, then cast an encouraging glance at Aang. "Good luck, you guys."

"In the meantime," Iroh suggested, "I will go send word back to the Fire Nation for a ship to come transport us home as soon as possible."

Both Sokka and Iroh departed. But Ursa lingered briefly, sorrow haunting her gaze; she gave Zuko a soft, sad smile, and then quietly pulled him into a tight hug.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do, darling?" she asked reluctantly, in a troubled whisper.

"I don't know what else we could do, mom," he insisted again, beginning to feel almost desperate: first Katara was abandoning the plan, and now his mother? "I thought you were okay with this?"

"Well," she sighed. "Yes, I was. But now, I—I don't know. I'm just beginning to have a bad feeling about it. And Katara too—"

"I know, but," Zuko protested hastily, "Aang says he's fine with it. That's what matters. I trust his judgment, and if he's willing to do it, then I think it should be done."

"I just wonder," she frowned, searching the ground thoughtfully, "perhaps we _should _wait another day or two?"

"I don't think that would really change anything," he said. "Do you?"

She studied him for a moment, her eyes again churning with sorrow and pain on his behalf. "No, I suppose it wouldn't," she finally admitted, quietly. Then she reached up and brushed a few strands of his long black hair out of his eyes. "Zuko, my love. I know you must be feeling burdened by a great many things right now... I—I can't pretend that I know _everything _that is troubling you, but..."

Almost impulsively, she pulled him into another tight embrace, trying to squeeze as much comfort as she could into the gesture.

"It will all turn out fine in the end, darling," she whispered in his ear. "Please believe that. And don't let your troubles burden you anymore."

He hugged her back, somewhat mystified by her words—but the heavy weight of the necklace still pulled at his pocket, and he released a sorrowful sigh of his own. "Okay, mom... Thanks."

Meanwhile, Katara took Aang anxiously by the arm.

"Aang?" she said, feeling strangely useless and desperate to help somehow. "Do... do you want me to come with you?"

He glanced at her, hesitating for a moment, then shook his head hastily. "No. No, that's all right. It's probably better for me to do this on my own."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, sounding for a moment almost faintly exasperated. But then he sighed, and gave her a very small and appreciative—but quietly dogged—smile. "I'm fine, Katara. Just don't worry about me. I can handle it, okay?"

Something about his behavior was rather perplexing to her, though she wasn't sure what exactly it was. She got the uneasy impression that she was somehow being pushed away, held at arm's length, while he fought some battle within himself. She frowned at him in puzzlement—but then told herself that it probably wasn't anything to worry about, nothing to do with her personally. He was probably just a little stressed out by everything that had been so suddenly dropped onto his shoulders. That was understandable, and she didn't want to push him any more than he was already being pushed. So she let it go.

"Okay," she sighed at last, resignedly. Then she kissed him softly on the cheek. "Be safe."

Oddly, as she looked at him, his eyes suddenly dodged hers—_almost _meeting her gaze, but reluctant to fully give in. "Okay," he murmured, nodding.

Bringing her hand up to touch his face, she turned his head to catch his wayward gaze and hold it still.

"And Aang," she began carefully, "I know you said you're okay with this, and I know you want to—to get back to doing your job, and everything. I completely understand that... But, even still, don't—don't feel like you have to do something that you don't feel right doing. This isn't all your responsibility; it's _all _of ours. And if it feels wrong, then..."

She hesitated, struggling to say precisely what she meant—some vital, urgent plea that was boiling shapelessly within her, desperate to be spoken. Aang watched her intently then, waiting for her to finish her sentence, his brow faintly furrowing.

At last she breathed, and looked him firmly in the eye once more, and the plea found its proper shape.

"Just—don't forget who you are." Her eyes stirred with earnest anxiety. "Okay?"

He simply stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words, eyes sparking fitfully as if she'd just reminded him of something sad that he'd almost forgotten. Then, as if overcome by an impulse he was powerless to resist, he took her face between his hands and kissed her—bristling with poignant gratitude, but also with a sad, bitter, baffling kind of urgency, as if he thought the world would end at any moment and this might be his last chance. Her heart stuttered in surprise, and she kissed him back from the depths of her soul. And suddenly—she wasn't sure why—a powerful, nervous part of herself frantically insisted that, at all costs, she mustn't let him go.

But she did let him go, reluctantly. And he released a deep breath.

"I love you," he whispered suddenly, in a strange burst of something almost like despair.

Startled, bewildered, melting with piercing affection at his words but heavy remorse at his tone, Katara stared at him, frowning slightly.

"I love you too," she said, and she meant it with all her might, and hoped that he knew.

He met her eyes again briefly, before giving her a small half-hearted smile and turning away. And, suddenly, for the first time, she wasn't sure that he _did _know. And she began to worry.

* * *

><p><em>So... ahem. Definitely having WAY too much fun with Tonten. Who'd have guessed those two would turn out so entertaining? <em>^_^


	47. Avatar's Morning III: The Prisoner

_And, guess what?... Since I made you all wait so stinkin' long for this update, I'm actually putting up THREE in a row! Surprise! _:D

_This one's a teeny bit shorter than the other two (still long though). It's actually kind of better that I'm putting all three of these chapters up at once, because they're all meant to go together (another case of me having to split things up because I write way too much). They're sort of setting the foundation for... pretty much ALL the conflict that's gonna play out in the rest of the story. _^_^

Mai: "Oh, geez, another chapter already? Great. I guess I have to come up with something to say for this one too?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "If you want." :D<br>Mai: *_sigh_* "... Okay. Here's something. When's Zuko going to get over his whole Katara-business? I'm tired of reading about all his whiny feelings. Mostly because they aren't about me."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh, don't worry, he'll get there. And he still has lots of angst about you too, in case you didn't notice." :)<br>Mai: "Oh, right... Yeah, that makes me gag, too. Never mind. You should just make him brood less."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Erm... Well, but—but—I can't make him... He's <em>Zuko<em>. He _broods._" :/  
>Mai: "Yeah. Yeah, he does...*<em>sigh<em>* I miss that broody doofus."

* * *

><p><strong>THE AVATAR'S MORNING, PART THREE:<br>The Prisoner**

After the dispersal of the council at the Chief's Palace, Zuko and Aang departed for the prison, arriving only a few minutes later and entering through the narrow, nearly invisible passage in the cliffs behind the palace, passing single-file—Zuko ahead, Aang behind—until they emerged into the wide cavern at the entrance, where the two streams fell from somewhere high in the far wall and crashed to the bottom, flowing through the cavern and passing out underground. The Waterbenders, as usual, lifted their wall of icy spikes at the visitors' entrance; but when they saw that it was the Avatar and the Fire Lord, they immediately lowered the barrier and ushered them on to the opposite wall, where a few other Waterbenders carried them high into the air on a pillar of ice, depositing them in the narrow passage at the top: the passage that led, after a very long walk, to Azula's cell.

A couple more Waterbenders went on ahead of them down the passage, opening up each heavy iron door that blocked off the path at intervals, each with its increasingly complex water-based locking mechanism. As they traveled on, Zuko and Aang both began to, almost subconsciously, lag behind, until they were quite a distance from the Waterbenders ahead of them, and the only constant sound around them was the echoes of their footsteps in the dark, ominous tunnel.

They'd hardly spoken a word since they'd left the palace. But, now that they had such a long walk ahead of them, most likely without any interruptions, Zuko decided perhaps the time had come to finally talk to Aang about everything he'd meant to talk to him about before—time to let his burdens go.

"So," he finally began, clearing his throat a little awkwardly as they walked. "About that talk we didn't get to have earlier..."

"Oh, yeah. Almost forgot." Aang glanced at him. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I—um," Zuko stumbled, already beginning to churn with shame, anticipating Aang's inevitable anger with even greater dread now, since Aang had been so casual and amiable with him all morning. "I guess you've—probably heard by now that... Katara's been, uh..."

He drifted off, but Aang guessed what he was driving at. He watched Zuko for a few more steps, to see if Zuko would say it on his own; when Zuko didn't, Aang said it for him, with perfect calmness.

"... Living with you in the Fire Nation?"

"Yeah," Zuko sighed, releasing some tension now that Aang had relieved him of the burden of finishing the sentence. Then he darted an anxious sidelong glance at Aang, distrustful of the calmness in his voice; but Aang still seemed entirely unbothered. "You're not upset?"

Pensively, Aang stared at the ground before his feet, taking a few more silent steps before replying. "Well," he finally said, slowly. "I was at first. But—I was pretty upset about everything at that point, so... But now? No. I'm not upset."

Zuko frowned, and stared very hard at the ground himself, as the two of them continued walking wordlessly down the grim tunnel. He felt completely wretched, and thought he needed to say something more—but he didn't know what to say. He'd been preparing himself for Aang's anger; he didn't know what to do with Aang's indifference. Especially since he didn't understand _how _Aang could be so indifferent about it.

At last, though, after a long interval of silence, Aang spoke up again—and he sounded a little awkward himself now.

"So, uh, how—?" he asked tentatively. "How long...?"

"She came just a little while after Tenzin was born."

"So... about five years."

"Yeah." Zuko shut his eyes tightly.

Aang stared straight ahead, in a daze. "That's—that's a long time."

"_Yeah_," Zuko said again, sighing with the weight of it.

Aang didn't say anything else for a while—he seemed lost in deep thought, and his brow knotted with some small, quiet trouble. Zuko studied him carefully, and got the feeling that Aang was actually consciously trying _not _to be upset—though, he thought, perhaps that was just his own insecurity etching itself into Aang's behavior.

"It was right after Mai died," Zuko went on after a moment, speaking rather quickly now, out of his own miserable anxiety. "I was—I was going through a really hard time then. She came to help me out of it."

"Yeah," Aang murmured, nodding. "She does things like that."

"Yeah, she does," Zuko also nodded, grimacing faintly. "Even though—you know, she was going through a pretty tough time herself, back then. Since, you were gone too. And she had Tenzin and all..."

He trailed off again, once more scrutinizing Aang out of the corner of his eye, searching for some sign of bitterness, or disappointment, or... _something_. But Aang only let his eyes linger on the ground as they walked, lost in thought: he seemed far from happy, but it wasn't the look of anger or betrayal. In fact, Aang seemed to have almost forgotten Zuko's presence, for the moment.

At last, Zuko asked again incredulously, unable to stop himself: "You're _really _not mad?"

Aang glanced up at him again, and looked a little surprised. "No," he said. "Did you think I would be?"

"Well—_yeah_," Zuko exclaimed. "I mean, _I _would be, if I was you."

After a thoughtful pause, Aang sighed and shrugged resignedly. "I don't see why. It's good you guys were able to help each other. And..." He had to struggle for a moment with the next part of his sentence, but it finally managed to come out, and it was completely sincere (though strained with regret). "And—it's good that Tenzin had you, at least, since I wasn't there..."

He looked thoroughly remorseful, lingering in the heavy sorrow of missing out on his son's life. But there was not the slightest trace of resentfulness, not a bit of jealousy, no accusation or reprimand. Somehow, at that moment, Zuko felt even more despicable and wretched than before, far too aware of how _he'd _resented Aang all these years, jealous of what Aang had—Katara's endless love, and Tenzin's unconditional filial loyalty—and shamed now by the miserable feeling that Aang was a much better person than he was. And he again frowned in bewilderment, unable to comprehend how Aang couldn't be holding _something _against him, after all this.

"And, anyway," Aang went on again, with a very small, bitter chuckle. "I mean, it's not like I woke up and found out you and Katara got married or something. _That _would have made me upset. But nothing like that happened, so—"

"Aang," Zuko interrupted him hastily, simmering with discomfort and disgrace—suddenly suspecting that the reason Aang wasn't upset at him was because he'd simply assumed, in blind (maybe deliberate) naïveté, that Zuko and Katara's relationship had been entirely platonic. "I'm really sorry, but I need to tell you something—"

Aang darted a nervous glance at him—as if perhaps he _did _know, or at least suspected the truth, but he just preferred not to hear it. "No, really, Zuko. It's fine—you don't have to—"

"Something _did _happen," Zuko blundered on clumsily regardless, "I mean, a lot of stuff—"

"Zuko, it really doesn't matter now—"

"But we weren't—" He stumbled, shaking his head, letting it all spill out at a frantic, foolish, sputtering speed, "I wouldn't say we were actually _together_, you know. At least, I—I don't _think _we were—technically. We weren't supposed to be—that was what we agreed—I wasn't going to be you, she wasn't going to be Mai—that was how it was. But we—it still kind of was—we still kind of _were _together, for a long time... But we weren't—I don't know—it was really mixed up and confusing, and... But I just—I don't know—I started to like her—a lot—and then I loved her—just because she was _her_—I don't know—I don't know why I did that—I should have known better, I _should _have, because she always—I mean, I didn't mean to—It just sort of..."

His awkward, faltering eruption of words finally trickled off into embarrassed, repentant silence, and Zuko flushed again with the shame and humiliation of the confession. He couldn't bring himself to look at Aang; he had no idea whether Aang was watching him or not, or what emotions he might see on the Airbender's face if he chose to look. But the echoes of the tunnel rang with deafening tension.

At last, Zuko merely sighed, and muttered, "I'm... really sorry."

Aang still did not say a word. The two of them walked on, staring at their feet, and the air itself felt uncomfortable and strange.

"We—we thought you were gone, you know," Zuko went on, feeling the desperate need to explain himself further somehow, or at least just break that awful silence. "So—it wasn't like... And—and it wasn't Katara's fault, either. It was completely me, I promise. So, don't be upset at her—"

"I'm not upset," Aang murmured, almost inaudibly.

"She was always—I mean, it was always _you_, for her, the whole time. She never let go of you. I was just her—I don't know. I don't know _what _I was to her, or what I am—I really don't know. But I..."

Still boiling with miserable shame and dread, Zuko took a deep breath, and finally persuaded himself to look at Aang. The Airbender was staring very, very hard at the ground, his mouth clenched tightly shut.

"I'm sorry," Zuko said again. "I just—I really needed to tell you that. It... didn't feel right not to. I'm—I'm sorry, Aang. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," Aang whispered, after a pause. He closed his eyes, shutting himself away, just for a moment.

Zuko watched him for a few more seconds, feeling utterly despicable. "You're mad at me now, aren't you?"

Aang didn't answer right away. But then, very quietly, he said, "No. No, I'm not upset at anyone."

Shocked, Zuko simply gawked at him, finally spluttering, "_How can you not be upset?_"

Opening his eyes again (but not looking at Zuko), Aang released a slightly irritated sigh. "What, do you _want _me to be upset, Zuko? Because I mean, I guess I can try, but I'd really rather not—"

"No, I—" Zuko shook his head hastily, furrowing his brow, feeling flustered. "I don't want you to be upset... I just don't get how you can _not _be."

Aang exhaled again, very slowly. "Well," he said carefully. "Like you said, you both thought I was gone. You couldn't have known. It wouldn't really be fair for me to get mad at you for that... Right?"

Zuko shook his head again, frowning down at his feet, still stinging with guilt, feeling bitterly undeserving of Aang's forgiveness. "I still shouldn't have..." he mumbled confusedly. "I just wish it hadn't—I wish it hadn't turned out like this. I really do. I almost wish—" Then he stopped abruptly, second-guessing himself.

Aang finally glanced at him again. "What?"

"Well," Zuko sighed heavily. "I was going to say, I wish she'd never come to the Fire Nation in the first place. But then again, I—I don't really wish that. I don't know what I'd have done without her all that time... I guess it's more like, I wish... I don't know. I just wish it wasn't like _this_."

There was another long, remorseful pause. Aang dropped his eyes to the ground again, pondering, then fixed Zuko with a careful sidelong stare. "So—but—you—you still have feelings for her, then?" he finally asked, hesitantly.

It took Zuko another moment to come up with a proper answer, and to will himself to speak it. At last, he released another uncomfortable sigh, and admitted quietly, "I'm... I'm working on it."

Aang's eyes shifted uneasily. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said slowly, "yes, I do still have feelings for her. But I don't want to anymore. It's just..." He breathed. "It's been five years, you know. It's not so easy to just make that go away whenever you want."

Another short silence.

"But—I'm working on it," Zuko repeated, insistently.

Aang didn't say anything. But Zuko's confession, and the truth about his current feelings for Katara, hovered loudly and heavily in the air between them as they walked.

"I'm sorry, Aang," Zuko finally spoke again, with grave regret. "I'm really sorry. And I'm sorry to have to tell you all this. But—I didn't want to lie and tell you I was over it, or that it never happened. That wouldn't be right. You needed to know."

Aang simply nodded slowly, after a short pause, gazing sadly ahead. "I... I appreciate that, Zuko."

"But you don't need to worry or anything," Zuko added hastily. "Because—I mean, like I said, I'm—I don't want..."

His words got all tangled and twisted up with themselves, and Zuko trailed off, frowning confusedly. He wanted to try to reassure Aang somehow that there was no reason to fear that he would try to steal Katara away, or do anything behind his back, or something like that—but he couldn't quite spit it out, and the only things he could actually think to say seemed wrong, somehow. Aang just stared at him, waiting, studying him cautiously.

At last, Zuko sighed yet again, and shook his head fiercely. "Just don't worry, all right. That's all."

Aang continued to scrutinize him for a few more moments, and then said tentatively, "Okay. I won't... I trust you, Zuko."

Much to Zuko's surprise, Aang was, again, completely sincere—he could hear how much he meant it, just in the tone of his voice. And although it was what Zuko had been hoping for, _more _than he'd been hoping for... hearing Aang actually say it, and actually mean it, instantly sent even deeper pangs of guilt through his heart. Aang's trust shamed him: he didn't feel worthy of receiving it, so easily, without having to do anything to earn it back other than merely asking for it. He still couldn't force himself to fully comprehend that Aang wasn't going to hold anything against him; the idea simply wouldn't register properly in his mind.

Finally, after another long, pensive silence, Zuko murmured, "I'm sorry again, Aang."

"It's okay."

"We—we really didn't mean for it to happen, you know—"

"It's fine. I get it, Zuko."

"... Just wanted you to know I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"I completely understand if we can't be friends anymore because of—"

"Of course we're still friends."

Genuinely surprised, Zuko looked up at him, staring blankly.

Aang took a deep breath, and then he actually chuckled softly, though not happily. "I mean," he said, glancing at Zuko with a small smirk, "we've had a lot worse problems before. Right?"

After a short hesitation, Zuko allowed himself a small smile of his own. "Yeah," he nodded, also chuckling. "Yeah, I guess we have."

"So just don't worry about it."

They fell silent again, and Zuko dropped his eyes to the ground—still furrowing his brow, still bewildered by how easily Aang had forgiven him, still not entirely sure he believed it. But he was smiling now, a very little. And he felt that some enormous burden had been lifted from him, now that he'd gotten all that over with, and it was actually, inexplicably, okay somehow.

"You're a really good friend, Aang," he finally said.

Aang sighed. "Well, I try."

"I'm really glad you're back." And he meant it very earnestly.

"Thanks, Zuko," Aang replied softly. "I'm... glad to be back."

"Oh, hey!" Zuko suddenly remembered the other thing he needed to take care of: the other burden he'd been holding onto, for far longer than he should have. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the necklace and—hesitating for a second, uncertain how best to go about this—at last he simply shoved it rather awkwardly into Aang's hand, with a blunt: "Uh... _here_."

Startled, Aang looked at the object Zuko had put in his hand. When he saw what it was, the blood drained from his face instantly, and he only stared at it, appalled and mortified.

"_Where did you get this?_" he burst, as soon as he could speak again.

Zuko, preoccupied with his own mortification, didn't pay any heed to Aang's strange reaction. "Katara lost it a couple of weeks ago," he explained quickly. "And my mom found it, and she gave it to me. I'm sorry, I—I actually meant to give it back to Katara before now, but I, um—I just kept forgetting."

Aang was gaping at him, mouth hanging open, holding the necklace in his open palm as if he didn't feel entirely comfortable touching it.

Zuko—shutting his eyes fiercely—shook his head in severe frustration at himself. "No—no, I'm sorry. That's a lie. I didn't forget. I just... I was having trouble... motivating myself to give it back to her."

Aang finally tore his eyes off Zuko, letting them drift down to the necklace in his hand. He gaped at _it _now instead, and looked a little bit sick.

Zuko sighed, still oblivious to Aang. "She... she was really upset when she lost it. But, now you can give it back. It'll be a nice surprise for her..." He hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice struggled slightly with pain, though he did his best to hide it: "She'll be a lot happier to get it from you anyway."

With a million distressed thoughts and emotions storming chaotically in his eyes, Aang swallowed hard, and finally tucked the necklace quietly into his own shirt.

"Uh..." he muttered, his voice scratching hoarsely from his dry throat. "Yeah... Okay... Thanks."

When they finally arrived at the end of the long tunnel, at the final door, deeper underground than all the others, the Waterbenders standing guard bowed their heads reverently to the Avatar and the Fire Lord.

"The Avatar is here to see the prisoner," Zuko told them gravely. "He needs to approach her. Lower the bars once he goes inside."

"Yes, Fire Lord," said one of the guards, turning and stepping aside to a large wheel-like contraption attached the wall beside the door. He placed his hand on it and watched the two of them expectantly.

"Once you're in there," Zuko informed Aang in a tense hush, "we'll shut the door and the guards will turn that wheel there. It'll lower the bars inside so that you can get close to her. But don't worry—she's chained up, so she won't be able to move much. And it's too cold in there for her to do much Firebending. Just do what you have to do, and ring the bell beside the door when it's done."

"Are you not coming in too?" Aang asked in surprise, suddenly feeling quite unsettled and nervous. Perhaps he was still a bit shaken up from seeing the necklace again—perhaps Zuko's own clear anxiety was contagious... Whatever it was, Aang was all at once beginning to doubt the entire task at hand, surging with a cold dread and a deep discomfort about what he'd come here to do.

Zuko paused for a moment, studying him, and then finally shook his head with a pained grimace. "No, I—I think I should probably stay out here. I'm not good at... handling her. I'd probably make everything worse, if I was in there." He sighed tremulously. "And anyway—I'd just rather—I'd rather not watch you actually do it."

Aang hesitated apprehensively, gazing warily at Zuko, storming with even deeper dread, even more nervous reluctance to enter the cell and take care of business so brusquely and heartlessly—just walk right up to Azula, while she was powerless and cold and chained up behind bars, after not even seeing her in years, and simply strip her of her Firebending without warning, without ceremony, without offering her any other options... He hadn't felt quite right about it, even back at the palace, but at least there—when the idea was still distant and abstract, still something that belonged to the future—he'd been able to see the necessity of it. He understood what she'd done, what a ruthless nightmare she'd been. He knew it was probably their best and most merciful option for dealing with her and keeping everyone safe. But now, now that the time had actually come, it suddenly was _real_... This would only be the second time he'd ever taken someone's bending away, and the first time had been in the heat of battle with Ozai, with the fate of the entire world at stake, as a final resort when it had become abundantly clear that nothing else (other than death) would bring an end to Ozai's destruction and cruelty. This felt entirely different: brutal, even almost _tyrannical_. And Zuko's obvious horror at the whole thing was certainly doing nothing to alleviate Aang's discomfort.

He almost thought of turning back at once—of telling Zuko he was having second thoughts, that it simply didn't feel right—of demanding that they wait a while, wait to see if some other solution presented itself, or at least wait until he was feeling more like himself than he was right now. He'd barely been able to think straight about anything all morning. Maybe he hadn't been thinking straight when he'd agreed to do this. Maybe Katara had been right to suggest that he wait a couple of days until he had time to recover...

But—no, he couldn't turn back now. Zuko was counting on him. _Everyone _was. No one was safe—Tenzin wasn't safe—as long as Azula still had her Firebending. And he'd already (perhaps rashly) assured everyone that he would get it done, that they wouldn't have to be so afraid anymore. He'd already insisted to Katara, in defiance of all her worried protests, that he _could_ do it, that it was no big deal, that he could handle it, that it was his job...

He had to do it. He was the Avatar—this was his responsibility. And he'd already been missing for five years—already left Katara and Tenzin abandoned and unprotected for such a long time—he _had _to do this. It was his duty.

Even still, he nearly demanded, or begged, Zuko to come into the cell with him. He hadn't prepared himself to go in alone. The prospect of it was oppressive and heart-withering. But Zuko looked almost sick, just from standing outside the door. Aang couldn't bring himself to force that on him.

"Okay," he finally muttered, nodding and suppressing a nauseous shudder of his own. His head throbbed again, and he fiercely willed it to stop. "See you when it's done then, Zuko."

He stepped forward, and the other guards solemnly began to bend the water in the elaborate locking contraption on the door, maneuvering it through the complicated motions necessary to release the series of catches.

As they waited for the door to be unlocked, Zuko suddenly reached out and caught Aang by the arm. "Hey," he said urgently. "Don't let her mess with you."

Aang sighed uneasily, but gave Zuko the most reassuring look he could muster. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"That's long enough," Zuko replied grimly.

"Don't worry," Aang insisted, trying equally, if not even more, to convince himself not to worry in the process. "It'll all be fine."

Then the door was opened, and Aang entered Azula's prison cell.

As he stepped inside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the eerie greenish glow of the crystals that sat in torches along the walls, illuminating the entire wide room in a frigid, ghostly pallor. The massive door clanged ominously shut behind him, and as soon as it did he heard the creaking of metal, and saw the thick iron bars that spanned the center of the room begin to lower slowly into the ground.

Beyond the descending bars lay the prisoner herself, in a wretched heap, each of her limbs bound in heavy chains, her breaths trickling out in frosty clouds. He heard the faint whistle of the air as it passed miserably through her nostrils. As the bars lowered, her chains simultaneously began to tighten as well, receding deeper into the ground—and Aang assumed the mechanism that lowered the bars must also be connected to the shackles, to constrict the prisoner's freedom of movement as soon as the safeguard of the bars was removed.

Indeed, by the time the bars had lowered all the way into the ground, Azula's chains had constricted tightly enough that she was forced to sit up on her knees, arms stretched out—and he saw clearly in the dim green light the dozens of jagged scratches, burns and scars that riddled her flesh (how many of which were self-inflicted, he didn't want to know)—and at last she lifted her weary, ragged head and looked up, with dull indifference, to see who had come to visit her this time.

And then Aang saw her face for the first time—emerging, pale and eerie, from beneath the savage, filthy curtain of her torn and tangled hair. The skin of her face was slashed here and there with more of the same deep scratches, but it was also bruised and battered—undoubtedly from the beating she'd received from Toph recently. Her neck was black and blue and mottled red, imprinted with a nasty wound that resembled the pattern of her chains. But what shocked him the most was her eyes: the same as they'd always been, and yet horribly different—wilder and stranger, almost like a feral animal's, despite the sharp intelligence that still clearly lurked within them; and at the moment they were staring forward distantly, as if her mind was currently lost in some completely separate world, and she couldn't care less about what went on in _this _one.

For a few seconds, he just gaped at her, mouth ajar, shocked at the state she was in. Even after everything the others had told him, he couldn't believe it.

But when her eyes fixed upon him, something sparked deep within them—and she stirred herself back to the present world, back to reality, at least somewhat—and a bizarre flash of incredulous surprise twitched across her face. Briefly, she squinted at him, as if she didn't recognize him or wasn't sure he was actually there. Then suddenly, she laughed—laughed _loudly_—and her entire demeanor changed from listless and wretched to excitedly animated, as if the only thing she'd needed to wrench her out of her defeated stupor was a surprise visit from Aang.

"You!" she cried, still chortling in frantic disbelief. "No—it _can't_ be you! Is it really? So you actually _are _back from the dead, after all this time!—My goodness, you really grew up, didn't you? I almost didn't recognize you for a second there!"

"Azula—" Aang stammered, still gaping, unable to stop himself, "What—what _happened _to you?"

"Back from the dead _again!_" she went on in a hysterical ramble, shaking her head. "How many times is this now? Three? Honestly, are you _ever _going to let the next Avatar have a turn?"

A vicious chill swept over him. His vision rippled with the relentless pulse in his head. He shut his eyes tight, just for a moment.

_I have to. I have to. There's no other choice._

Somberly, he caught Azula's wild gaze and held it firmly, taking slow strides toward her—though his feet longed to stop, to turn back, to simply leave the cell right now and tell Zuko that he couldn't. But no, he had to.

"Azula," he began, rather regretfully, while she stared up at him with an eerie smirk. "I'm sorry to have to do this, but I came here to—"

"So what little rock have you been hiding under all this time, anyway?" she smirked. "Did the world just get to be too much for you? Felt the need to disappear again for a bit? At least it wasn't a hundred years this time..."

"_Azula—_"

"Did you get to meet your little boy yet?" she rambled on cheerfully, almost greedily. He wasn't sure if she was ignoring him on purpose, or was just slightly detached from reality, lost in her own frenzied digression. "He's a real cutie. Looks _just _like you... Shame he hasn't had a father all these years, hm?"

Aang just sighed wearily, refusing to allow her words to affect him. "Azula, stop. I know what you're trying to do—"

"Though I guess Zuzu's been filling in for you in the meantime," she continued, relentlessly, and seemed to be on the brink of a frantic fit of giggles. "He's such a good friend, isn't he—Zuzu? He's even been filling in with your girlfriend too, at no extra charge!"

Her eyes watched him intensely—hungrily—unblinking, yet still surreally distant somehow—waiting for a response from him. Aang wasn't sure if she was trying to shock him, assuming that he was ignorant about Zuko and Katara's relationship, or if she was counting on him already being jealous, trying to exacerbate it. Either way, she was unsuccessful; he only glowered at her sternly, crossing his arms.

"If you're trying to get some kind of reaction out of me," he said, unable to keep a quiet scoff out of his voice, "it's not going to work. And you might try showing a little respect. You're not exactly in a position to be taunting anyone right now."

She laughed again—uproariously. The sound of it chilled his bones, though he didn't allow it to show.

"Well, we'll see, won't we!" she cried with frenetic, unrestrained glee. "We'll see, we'll see, we'll see..."

He'd stepped beyond the lowered bars by now—but not yet close enough to touch her. Looking her seriously and sternly in the eye, he knelt before her.

"Do you know why I'm here, Azula?"

"You mean you didn't just drop by for a friendly chat?" she chuckled, still quaking with wry, manic amusement.

"_Do you know why I'm here, Azula?_" he insisted, in a low voice.

"Oh, _fine_," she sighed, rolling her eyes and sneering—and her sneer, he noticed, hadn't changed a bit. "Well... I imagine it's because my brother is a pathetic coward. Is that about right?"

Aang gazed very hard at her, trying to probe the depths of her mind, to find some semblance of something redeemable, something salvageable. At last, discouraged, he closed his eyes and sighed as well, already feeling exhausted.

"I'm here," he said, trying to squeeze as much gentleness as he could into his voice while still keeping it firm and authoritative, "because your brother and your family wanted to show you mercy—"

"_Mercy?!_" she scoffed disdainfully, deep hatred blazing in her eyes so suddenly that it rather took him aback. "Oh, is that what you call it? _Fascinating_... I assume you mean the same 'mercy' you showed my father all those years ago, right? The 'mercy' that drove him to destroy himself? Is that what you've come here to give me now, Avatar?"

Aang just closed his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly—reinforcing his stance. "If your father couldn't accept that I spared his life," he said, "then that was his own choice. But it doesn't have to be that way for you—"

"Oh, and what?" she snapped bitterly. "So you're going to turn me _good_ by sucking the life out of me? Is that your plan? Because that worked _so _well for my father, didn't it?—"

"_Azula_," he said forcefully, giving her a severe glower. "I'm just trying to talk to you like a reasonable person—"

"No, thanks," she said flippantly. "Reasonable talks aren't really my thing these days. I'm completely mad—haven't you heard? Everyone knows it." She raised her eyebrows at him, and again her eyes flickered with something distant and savage, though the mechanical whirrings and clickings of her sharp mind were ever-present. "I guess they haven't brought you up to speed yet."

He studied her carefully. "You're _not _completely mad."

She smirked again—darkly. "Are you sure?"

Aang didn't reply. For a few more moments, he just continued to study her, observing the wild detachment in her gaze, but also the clear cunning in her smirk—wondering, wondering—with the strange feeling that, for whatever reason, she was trying desperately hard to convince both him and herself that she _was _completely mad. As if, to her, the way she was now, the idea of actually _not _being completely mad was more terrifying and unbearable than anything.

An unexpectedly powerful surge of pity suddenly welled up in him.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, Azula," he finally whispered.

Azula's smirk vanished in an instant, and again she scoffed viciously. "Don't give me that," she snarled, turning her eerie gaze away to glower at nothing at all. "I don't want your pity, or anyone else's."

Aang sighed sadly, rising to his feet again. It was time. It had to be done. He couldn't sit here talking to her any longer. No matter how wrong he felt about it, he couldn't put it off any more—he had to do what he'd come to do, what he knew _had _to be done—and she wasn't going to listen to him anyway. She wasn't going to let him help her. There was nothing else to be done. Stepping nearer to her, he fixed her with a grave, but remorseful, look.

"You understand," he said softly, "I _have _to do this."

"No, you don't," she retorted, even more softly, piercing him with her hateful eyes.

"You've left us no other choice—"

"There's _always_ another choice. You know that perfectly well."

"Azula," he argued, trying not to sound desperate, "you've only brought this on yourself. I know what you've been doing these past few years. After everything you've done, the only other choice you've left us with is to..."

He trailed off, without meaning to. But she glared up at him bitterly, and finished his sentence for him in a dark hush:

"Kill me."

Something about the way she said those two words—the strange inflection in her tone—seemed to be more than an inquiry, or a mere completion of his thought: it almost sounded like a command, or a request. Again, Aang felt a deep chill shudder through his body, though he did his best to smother it—and he gazed at her grimly. "Would you _really_ prefer that?"

He meant it rhetorically—but she didn't treat it that way.

"Maybe I would," she whispered, staring hard at the frozen ground between her knees. Then she turned her biting glare up at him again. "But _you _won't give that to me. I know you won't. You didn't have the strength or decency to give my father an honorable death. Instead you just stripped him of everything he was—stole all the life that he had away from him—but left him alive to suffer, just an empty shell of a person—doomed him to go on living with all his emptiness." She paused, quivering with rage. "Do you _honestly _believe that that was more merciful than death? _Do_ you, Avatar?"

Despite himself—despite all he knew to be right—Azula's words unexpectedly shook him to the core, shattering deep into the very foundation of who he was and who he'd always believed himself to be. Perhaps it was because he could tell she wasn't simply taunting him: she meant every word of what she said, with sharp, thorough resentment drawn straight from the deepest, most genuine center of her miserable heart. He was astonished by how profoundly, how violently, her lightning bolt struck him. For a moment, he couldn't speak—he couldn't think of the proper words, the proper answer (he knew there _was _one—there had to be—but what was it?). He couldn't think straight—he couldn't _think_—his piercing, hammering migraine wouldn't let him. And suddenly, again, his eyes swam with strange black phantoms, and he shoved his fingers into his eyelids, desperate to drive the shadows away.

_This isn't right—this isn't right_...

He shuddered violently, uncontrollably. What was wrong with him?

"Oh, you think you're something really great, don't you?" Azula continued in her savage rant, mercilessly, her voice rising to a chaotic scream. "Me, in chains at your feet, and you standing there so grandly, so proud of how merciful and compassionate you are. Yes, you're so _good_. You and Zuko—all of you. You're all so _good! _And I'm nothing but a monster. Isn't that right? Isn't that what you think? That's how all of you think! But you're all nothing but a bunch of self-righteous cowards!"

"Azula," Aang growled sternly, doing his best to subdue the headache and the cold and the crawling ghosts in his eyes and the grasping, shrieking panic in his chest, in the midst of her wild chaotic screaming. "_Calm down_."

"_Don't tell me to calm down!_" she shrieked, erupting into a fiery rage, small bursts of flames flaring from her nostrils and mouth, even in the frigid air of the cell.

The Firebending was feeble, true—but even still, just those small wild sparks of fire were enough to wrench Aang back to sharp alertness. "_Azula_—" he warned her again, his voice low and severe.

But she went on frantically, lost in her delusional tirade. "Don't pretend like _you _have the power here! We both know that even though you have me in chains now, it's only a matter of time before I'm free again. Just like before. And then you'll all see who _really _has the power—then you'll all fall to your knees in fear, begging me for mercy. Even now—even now, while I'm your prisoner—every single one of you lives in fear of the day that I'll escape. The possibility hangs over your heads, poisoning your freedom, tainting all your happiness. Even in chains, I still have the power. Isn't that right? Isn't that why you're _here_, Avatar?"

She sent him a blazing, seething stare—her mouth twisting into some strange, unnatural, broken shape that was meant to be a mocking sneer, or a laughing grin, though it wasn't quite either. But though she seemed to think herself triumphant—desperately, frantically triumphant—her entire speech had only served to remind Aang of the purpose of his task; and though his pity for her remained, it was now greatly diminished, overshadowed by his renewed awareness of how truly dangerous she could be.

He held her gaze fearlessly, and spoke in a voice that was quiet and calm, but undeniably fierce. "You have no power at all right now, and you know it. And—"

"Then why haven't you done what you came here to do?" she demanded, with another frenzied, demented half-sneer of triumph. "Surely you could have had it over with by now? Why are you holding back? _What are you waiting for?_"

He hesitated, again, without meaning to—

Why _did _he hold back? She was right: undoubtedly he could have done it and been gone already. What _was _he waiting for?

He told himself, hastily, he _ought_ to just do it, now, without another word—just get it over with— it would only take a moment—it was for the best—Azula would survive, might even be better off in the long run, maybe—and everyone was counting on him—he'd already told them all that he would do it—he'd told Katara...

Would Katara be disappointed in him, if he didn't do what he'd insisted he could? Would she think he wasn't strong enough? Would she only fuss and worry and over-protect him more, now, if he didn't do this? Would she only say, well-meaning but unintentionally crushing nevertheless: "_I knew it, I told you all not to put this burden on him, I told you he couldn't handle it—_"

The thought was unbearable... But what was stopping him?

He didn't know for sure—but something powerful held him back. Something dragged at his legs, kept his arms by his side, made his stomach knot fretfully as he envisioned himself stepping forward now, placing his right hand on her brow, thumb between her eyes, and his left hand on her chest, and...

It seemed so simple in his head. But...

_... Should _he?

Who was he now? Was he the Avatar, who did his duty, who protected those he loved, who didn't retreat from his responsibilities regardless of his own personal fears and anxieties?—who'd accidentally abandoned his family, his people, the world, for a long time, and needed to make amends? Or was he just Aang—the one who listened, and listened _closely_, when something inside himself was screaming that it was wrong, it was wrong—exactly the way his heart was screaming right now?

Normally he was both of those things, easily enough; but right now he didn't feel like he was. He didn't feel quite like either one. He didn't feel like anything familiar or secure at all. After everything that had happened this morning, and now this... he felt like a stranger to himself.

... Who did Katara think he was?

He almost wished she was here with him now, that he'd agreed to let her come with him after all. He would have asked her straight out, right then: _You told me not to forget... But what did you mean? Who am I? Who do you think I am?_

Would she be disappointed in him if he _did_ do this? She hadn't seemed comfortable with the whole idea herself... Was this something that her Aang wouldn't do?

_No—but I have to. I _have _to. It has to be done. For Tenzin, and everyone. And I'm the only one._

But his heart was shrieking again with panic, trying to escape from him through his throat, strangling him in the process. And Azula was still rambling, relentless:

"Well, go ahead and do it," she was saying, still in a vicious, thunderous scream, her voice quivering either with rage or fear (or both), "I obviously can't stop you now. But one day, Avatar—one day, I hope you know what it's like. To lose everything you are, to realize that everything you thought meant something was really all for nothing—to have your very _self _broken. Father knew what that was like, thanks to you, and it destroyed him. And I know what it's like too—"

Her words resounded uncannily with the thoughts currently storming through his own mind. He gawked at her, struggling not to be overwhelmed, not to be horrified, not to simply flee immediately—not to even show her that any of those reactions were feeling extraordinarily tempting to him right now. She looked up, met his gaze coldly, and smirked again.

"Oh, yes," she chuckled maliciously, though her voice still trembled, "I already know what it's like. But it didn't destroy me. Not me. Not then. And it won't now, either..."

She paused then, for a long, significant moment, and fixed him with a stare that seemed to burn deep into the heart of himself, striking him, swift and lethal, just where he was blind and vulnerable, when he wasn't expecting it.

"I'm not like my father, you know," she finally said, strangely quiet now.

And it was at that moment that Aang began to realize—or to suspect—or to fear—that he _couldn't _actually take her bending away. Not right now.

He'd only done it that once before. He'd only ever done it to her father. It had been years since then—but he remembered. He remembered what it was like. He remembered disappearing deep into himself, pulling Ozai with him—leaving the world, stepping outside of time, outside of space, into a place where there was nothing but himself and Ozai: nothing but his own small-but-certain inner truth, and Ozai's consuming, destructive hunger. He remembered the struggle, the struggle of souls, that he knew had only taken seconds in reality, but inside that nowhere-space had seemed to last days and days. Himself, just himself, bending the Fire Lord's energy to his own will, while Ozai's hunger grasped and clawed and fought to swallow him up—and nearly did.

But it hadn't, though. Aang had beaten him back, brought his voracious spirit into submission: Aang had been strong enough to not be swallowed up. He knew who he was, then. He knew.

_Then_.

But now?

Aang stared at Azula now, stared very intently at her, and the words _corrupted and destroyed_ drifted to his mind at once, stirred up from long-unstirred depths of his memory, reverberating in the Lion Turtle's timeless, permeating voice. Corrupted and destroyed...

_She's not like her father_.

Not only that—Aang wasn't like _himself_. And that mattered a great deal more.

"Well—go on!"

Azula's shrill, hysterical voice once more speared through his head, piercing all his thoughts, pounding along in rhythm with his merciless headache—encouraging it to pound harder and more painfully. He shivered with bitter cold.

"Get it over with!" she went on, frenzied with her own obvious terror. "Show me how _kind _and _merciful _you are. Zuzu's counting on you, after all!" She trembled violently, and shot him yet another glower full of deep loathing and burning vengeance. "But I will say, despite all this, I _am _glad you're back now, Avatar. I've been wanting to say all these things to you for years, but I never thought I'd actually get the chance to. So, thank you for at least giving me that, before you take everything else away."

He looked at Azula.

She looked back at him.

And in that one moment, he knew—with complete, dreadful, disastrous certainty—that if he was to take her into that nowhere-space with him, right now, and try to bend her energy into submission... she was going to swallow him whole.

He wasn't entirely sure what would actually happen to himself then, if she did. But all he could envision clearly, at the moment of that terrible realization, was Katara and Tenzin. Katara—colliding with him in the courtyard, beside herself with happiness to see him, panicking at his simply running around the corner for a few moments, saying, "You've only actually been _here _again for a really short time, you know?"... And Tenzin—showing him all his drawings, the only small places in Tenzin's life in which Aang had been consistently present thus far; begging to show him the little Airbending he knew; begging for a glider of his own so that the two of them could fly together; begging to go on an adventure somewhere; asking, "Will you go penguin sledding with me, Daddy?"—but not right now, just _sometime_...

If he did this, tried to take Azula's bending... If he took the risk and attempted it, against his better judgment—

Would there _be _a "sometime"?

Aang wasn't sure what would happen to him if he failed—but he _did _know it would be disastrous, whatever it was. And to risk that, so soon after coming back, when they'd waited so long, when they were looking forward to so much, when they had such high expectations for him... and when he felt so frighteningly certain now that he _couldn't _actually overpower Azula—

No. He couldn't risk it. Not right now. Right now he had to protect himself, to be there for their "sometime." He'd missed out on far too much already. He couldn't do that to them. Whatever else he didn't know or couldn't understand—no matter who he thought he was, or who _they_ thought he was—amid all the other confusion and heartache that had haunted him since his awakening... This was the only thing he truly knew for certain.

Without a word, he turned away, stepping hastily back towards the door of the cell.

Azula was utterly silent for half a second—and then she exploded into shrieks again, voice quivering with incredulous, manic laughter.

"You're not going to do it, are you?" she cried, almost hysterical. "After all that, you're not going to! _You shouldn't toy with me like this, Avatar!_"

"Be quiet, Azula."

"What will Zuzu think? Aw! He'll be so disappointed! What about your girlfriend? What will _she _think when she finds out how weak you actually are?"

"_Be quiet, Azula_," he commanded again, in a softer, angrier voice. He stumbled for a moment, holding his head, barely able to see straight with the pulsing migraine and the flickering spots lurking beneath his eyelids. A savage chill shook his entire body. Azula's screaming on top of everything else was becoming too much to bear.

He reached for the cord, to ring the bell and signal to the guards outside—but even still, he hesitated, wondering if he'd really made the right choice after all. Zuko was waiting for him outside the door this very second, confident in Aang's ability to do what needed to be done. What was he going to tell him? What would he tell Katara? What would he tell _everyone? _Maybe he should—

"_You're a coward!_" she was bellowing, frantically rattling her tight shackles behind him. "That's what you are! You're worse than Zuzu—you're too cowardly even to take the cowardly way out! Pathetic! I should have known—I should have known all along you wouldn't have the nerve! Just like with father! You didn't have the nerve to do what it took—no!—and your pretty girlfriend, and your little son—you'd rather leave them all in danger, rather than do what needs to be done, because you just can't _bear _to tarnish your spotless righteousness, can you?"

He glanced back at her, scowling and frowning in bewilderment. So did she _want _him to do it, now? No—of course she didn't. She simply wanted any excuse to tear him apart, in any way she could. He knew that. Nevertheless, his heart stung a bit at her words, and he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she was right—if he _was _leaving everyone, Katara and Tenzin, in danger because he couldn't do what was necessary to protect them...

He began to walk slowly, reluctantly back toward her. Her eyes gaped at him, wide and frantic. Perhaps he should—maybe he had to _try_, at least...?

But then again, looking at her—at her pathetic state, her ragged hair, her scratched and blistered flesh, her bruised face and neck, her savage, desperate eyes, and the faint clouds of hot breath that were bursting frantically now from her nostrils—

No. It wasn't right.

He shook his head, shuddering with chills and throbbing pain. "Good-bye, Azula."

And he turned to go, determined this time: it wasn't right. Not today. He just needed to go. Now.

"What? No arguments?" she scoffed ferociously. "What a surprise! Even _you _know it's true, don't you? Everyone does! They just won't ever say so, because _you_'re the great hero. It's not right to say those sorts of things to a hero. You know, looking at you now, I can't say I'm surprised at all that the Water Tribe girl got sick of you—"

Aang stopped, staggering, as if he'd been hit with a physical blow. He bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure and not lose his temper. But his fists quivered fiercely.

And Azula saw—of _course _she did. And she chuckled maliciously at him. "Aw, did that one hurt?" she snickered mercilessly. "Better run off quick and see if that Waterbending whore will kiss it and make it all better! If she's not too busy with Zuko, of course. Go on, run off. That's what you _do_, after all, isn't it? Run away—keep going. Just like you ran away and abandoned all your people to be slaughtered—"

"SHUT _UP!_"

He whirled on her, unable to take any more, and struck her suddenly with a ferocious gust of air. Azula slammed hard against the ground with a painful grunt, the tight chains scraping at her flesh. Aang only stood there, breathing hard, fists still trembling with rage.

Despite the battering, she began to laugh shakily.

"Temper, temper!" she snickered, struggling to lift herself off the ground. "And here I thought I wasn't going to get a reaction out of you!"

Bewildered and almost frightened by himself—by the uncharacteristic violence of his reaction, and the sudden surge of sharp hatred that had come so suddenly over him, the potent urge to _hurt _her, just because he _wanted _to—Aang shuddered again, forcing his fists to relax, and suddenly blinked hard as his vision was flooded almost completely by those eerie phantom shadows, and his heart shrieked in savage panic.

After a second or two, the spots in his eyes vanished, leaving him still aching and cold and frantic and terrified of himself.

And somehow, even though he hadn't even attempted to take Azula's bending, even though he had shied away from engaging her in that internal battle—somehow, he got the feeling that she'd managed to swallow him whole, anyway.

Overwhelmed with icy dread, Aang tugged fiercely on the bell. The moment that he heard the final catch release he shoved the door open, bending the water in the locking contraption on the other side to propel it open faster—and he ran out of that room as fast as he could, furious at himself and his own weakness.

"Hey!" Zuko exclaimed, sprinting anxiously after him—for Aang had shoved brusquely past him, fleeing swiftly down the tunnel, without a word, without a glance at anyone else. The guards, startled and baffled, were left to quickly shut the door and raise the bars of the cell again, wondering what on earth had just happened.

"_Hey, Aang!_" Zuko called again, running with all his might to try to keep up with Aang's flying feet. He was only able to catch up when Aang was forced to stop, blocked in his flight by one of the heavy doors that partitioned off the tunnel. When Zuko stumbled up to him, panting, Aang was in the process of frantically bending the water in the door, trying to figure out how to unlock the complicated mechanism on his own. Zuko caught him by the shoulder forcefully.

"Hey!" Zuko gasped, frowning with bewildered worry. "What happened? Did you do it? Is it over? Did you—"

"No," Aang muttered hastily, pulling away from Zuko and resuming his efforts to unlock the door.

Zuko gawked at him, taken aback. "But—why not?"

"It's..." Aang took a long, deep breath. "I can't. Not right now."

"Aang, what's the problem?!" Zuko cried in alarm.

"_Look_," Aang growled, flustered and frustrated—at last succeeding in releasing the final catch and pushing the heavy door open. He immediately resumed his hasty escape, with Zuko trotting anxiously after him. "I can't just walk in there and take her bending away, okay? I thought I could, but I can't. It's not that simple. This isn't just some little chore that needs to be taken care of. It's—"

"_Why not?_" Zuko shouted, growing frustrated himself in his fear. "You did it to my father, and you were just a kid then! Why can't you—?"

"This is different. He left me no other choice. There was—there was no other choice—"

"_Azula_'s left us no other choice! We've been over this already!"

"I just can't do it, Zuko. Not today."

Mustering a fierce burst of speed to catch up to the fleeing Airbender, Zuko grabbed him by the shoulder again and pulled him to a stop, looking him sternly in the eye. "_Aang_," he insisted, "she's dangerous! Just look around at this prison! This is the only thing that'll hold her right now, and even then, who knows if she won't find some way to escape?"

"If I do this, it's not going to magically fix everything!" Aang argued fiercely.

"I'm not asking you to magically fix everything!" Zuko protested desperately. "I just want you to _help!_"

"I want to help," Aang shook his head, shutting his eyes and pressing his fingers against his temples with a bitter wince, as if he were in deep pain. "But..."

"Think of what she did to Toph, and Uncle, and Mai," Zuko went on, frantic to persuade him. "She's killed dozens of innocent people, and she's almost killed all the rest of us, multiple times, including the kids. Think of _them_, Aang!" He gripped Aang by both shoulders now, fixing him with a pleading stare. "_Think of Tenzin!_"

For a moment, Aang seemed to waver, his eyes stirring with doubts and regrets and shame—but then he shook his head once more, and returned Zuko's stare with a grave, stern frown.

"Not today, Zuko."

And that was the end of the conversation. Aang continued on his way out of the prison, without another word, leaving Zuko behind—dumbfounded, dismayed, and burning with bitter frustration.

* * *

><p><em>Dun-dun-dun! Azula is not out of the picture yet! Not even close, actually. (But I'm sure you all expected that). <em>:D

_Well... next chapter will hopefully be coming soon (don't ask me what exactly I mean by "soon," please... _believe it or not, I still have not defended my thesis. But I've finally gotten to a point where I don't have to work on it nonstop. Phew!)... _And Aang and Katara are gonna finally have that serious talk that they haven't got to have yet. Should be HAPPY and FUN!... Heh? _XD


	48. Forebodings

_... Hello? Is anyone still out there? *cricket chirps*_

_Haha. So, yeah... another really long hiatus... after I just said I hoped there wouldn't be anymore. *Sigh* Good thing I got three chapters in a row out last time, or I would have felt REALLY bad. (Eh, I still feel bad, who am I kidding?) _

_I'd explain the delay, but I'm not sure you guys actually care all that much, so I'll just say—sorry about that, and although I wish I could promise it won't happen again, clearly I just can't tell. Nevertheless, I will reiterate my promise that the story WILL be finished, even if it takes me forever!_

_I will also add, part of what took me so long is that I ended up rewriting many parts, several times. As such, these next couple of chapters played out pretty differently from the way I initially thought they would, which is good (I think, ha). I have trouble posting things that I feel are not perfect, especially after long breaks when I've lost my momentum... even though part of my brain knows that it's impossible to get everything PERFECT, and at some point you have just go "Oh well" and post it anyway._

_On the other hand, this recent season of __Korra__ has been giving me some really interesting ideas... And also completely jossing a lot of my old ideas. Awesome, ha. Oh well, I guess it was bound to happen. _^_^

_P.S. Finally read all of "The Search." Conclusion: I like it. I like it a lot. Still not totally happy with Ursa's portrayal (or Ozai's, for that matter), but other than that it was great. I am strangely amused by the fact that a certain very frightening character apparently has mommy issues, ha... And I'm not talking about Azula._

_P.P.S. In case anyone's interested, I finally got my master's degree! Hooray! *throws a party for myself*_ :D

Mai: *_walks up with a sunburn_*  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Hi, Mai! Did you enjoy your trip to Hawaii?"<br>Mai: "Not particularly."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Aw, I kinda hoped maybe you'd come back with a lei or a Hawaiian shirt or something."<br>Mai: "Why in the world would I want either of those things?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>shrug<em>* "Because those are the silly touristy things people always get when they go to Hawaii!"  
>Mai: "... You really should know me better than that." -_-<br>Rain&Roses: "You know, I really should." :/

* * *

><p><strong>FOREBODINGS<strong>

_I shouldn't have let him go._

Katara was on the wide steps outside the palace's main entrance, pacing anxiously up and down, trying in vain to gather some comfort from the cold open air. A few people were around—some wandered by below and cast curious glances at Appa, who was sitting patiently down at the bottom of the steps, scratching himself, yawning and collecting snowflakes on his great head; others passed in and out of the palace, casting furtive glances at Katara, sometimes whispering to one another. But Katara didn't hear what they were saying, and didn't care.

_I shouldn't have let him go._

This was the same great courtyard where she'd challenged Pakku to a fight, all those years ago—but at the moment, Katara was too troubled to be nostalgic. Her fingers worked restlessly at a few strands of her long hair, braiding and unbraiding it without conscious thought, while her eyes darted uncertainly down at the ground, then up at the falling snow, then over to where Appa was waiting for something to happen, and then across the courtyard to the gate that led out into the city—the path that Aang and Zuko had taken to the prison, only a few minutes ago.

_I shouldn't have let him go_.

Her heart had been palpitating with those words from the second Aang had turned away from her. Yet she'd still just stood there and let him go.

Why did she do that?

Why didn't she stop him? Or _insist _on coming with him?

He wasn't okay. She knew he wasn't. He'd been trying to convince her all morning that he was, and she'd been perhaps a little too willing to believe him. But now she couldn't shake the worry that all was actually not as well as she'd been hoping. She couldn't think about anything now except Aang's words and Aang's voice and Aang's eyes in that moment he'd turned away. She couldn't stop imagining what might be transpiring in the prison even now. And she couldn't banish that horrible nagging _shouldn't have _from her mind.

That look in his eyes—that strange tone of voice when he'd said he loved her—that sad, empty half-smile he'd given her as he turned away...

How could she have allowed him to go without her, after that? To face Azula—notoriously manipulative, frighteningly demented, ruthless, heartless, cunning, monstrous _Azula!_ That's what he was face-to-face with now—that's what she'd let him go confront, even though everything about him in those last few seconds had been screaming that he wasn't okay, no matter how much he insisted that he was.

What might Azula attempt to do in her desperation to save herself from the awful fate of losing her bending? Certainly if anyone deserved it, Azula did—but even still, Katara couldn't help putting herself in Azula's place, imagining how it would feel... Like having part of who she was stolen from her. Katara knew that if she herself were faced with losing her Waterbending, she'd do anything in her power, no matter how drastic, to keep it. And _she _was actually sane, with an actual moral sense. What might _Azula_ do? Would Aang be able to handle her, in the state he was in? Would Zuko be able to help, or would Aang have to do it on his own? And had he really made the right decision to take away Azula's bending? Or had he agreed to it against his better judgment, just because he felt he had to for all the rest of them—because he felt the need to prove himself somehow, to make up for his five-year absence?

He'd had such little time to recover—no time at all, really. Suppose he believed himself better than he actually was? Suppose he'd made the decision without giving it enough thought? Suppose he would regret it? She couldn't bear the thought that that he might have pushed himself to do something that would haunt him for the rest of his days—something that would never sit peacefully with his inner self. Especially when she could have done something to prevent it. She _should _have done something.

Katara sat down for a moment at the top of the palace steps, gazing out across the courtyard, staring at the far-off gate and wishing with all her might that Aang and Zuko were out there, coming back to her, already finished with the task, both perfectly fine and at peace with one another. She stared hard, trying to will the image in her mind into existence. When that didn't work, she anxiously rose to her feet again and began pacing down the steps once more, wondering if perhaps she ought to just go to the prison herself, to make sure everything was all right.

—But how would Aang react if she followed him? He'd said he wanted to do this alone. He wanted to do his job. She understood that. He'd been gone for so long; he must be feeling the burden of his responsibility weighing on him. He'd always been that way—trying to carry the weight of the world all on his own shoulders—and she knew from experience that she couldn't do anything to relieve him of that weight until he was ready to share some of it with her. He had to get over it on his own; all she could do was step back and let him, and be there when he needed her.

But it was so, _so_ hard to step back. She'd been looking forward to his being alive again for such a long time, and had gone through so much to make it happen—all she wanted to do now was hold onto him and protect him and not let him go for even a second.

But he needed space. He needed to do his job. He needed to do it on his own.

But why did it have to be _Azula?_

There was something different this time, too. It wasn't just the burden of his five-year absence that was troubling him. That wasn't the only reason he'd been holding her at arm's length all morning. She didn't know what it was, but there was something else—something deeply, seriously wrong.

_I shouldn't have let him go._

But—but what could she have done, really? She _had _tried to stop him, after all; she'd spoken her mind about it; she'd offered to go with him. She'd done all she could, short of physically restraining him—and that was absurd. He already probably thought she was insane for the way she'd panicked when he left the healing house earlier; how much more convinced would he be if she'd tackled him and tried to drag him back home against his will?

No. The decision had been up to him, and she couldn't do anything about that. She couldn't protect him from everything. She just had to trust that he was well enough, and himself enough, to choose correctly.

And she did trust him—she _did_... Didn't she? No matter how off-balance he might be, he was still himself—still Aang. And he'd always been so good at making the right decisions, even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, even if he stumbled a little at first.

A nervous sigh bubbled up out of her stomach as she paced.

Maybe there was no need to worry so much, she thought hopefully. Maybe it would turn out fine. Maybe it would all go according to plan, without a hitch. Aang would take Azula's Firebending away—soon he and Zuko would return to assure them all that it was done. Then Azula would be nearly powerless—no more of her vicious blue flames, no more of her deadly lightning bolts. Then all of them could sleep much more easily at night, without fear for themselves or the children, without wondering how and when Azula might escape again. Katara had to admit, the idea of having that terror removed filled her with relief. And once it was done, then Katara and Aang would finally have some free time together, to figure out what they were now in peace, without any more interruptions.

... Right. To figure out what they were.

She and him—What... what _were _they now, exactly?

It was a strange question, but it had been growing on her mind since breakfast—an increasing uncertainty about where exactly they stood with one another. There were so many things they hadn't had a chance to say to each other yet—so many things that desperately needed to be said. They were together again, yes—no question about that. But... what _was _it? What would happen now? What did Aang want to happen? Did he want the same thing she wanted? Did he know she wanted it? Why had he given her that look, and spoken in that tone, before he'd left the palace?

She couldn't stop thinking about the look in his eyes—the lonely hopelessness, the sorrowful doubt. She couldn't stop hearing it in his voice—that bewildering despair when he'd said he loved her...

What did it mean?

It was almost as if—as if he expected that those words, which meant everything to him, would mean nothing to her. As if he thought she wouldn't understand him, somehow. Or as if...

As if he wished the words weren't true. As if the statement itself caused him pain—

Katara shoved her hands deep into the folds of her parka to keep herself from wringing them fretfully.

_Why would he say it like that? Why would he sound so miserable? Why?_

It was driving her mad, thinking about it. And her heart quivered uneasily as she thought back on the entire morning, re-reading all of Aang's behavior through the lens of her new worrisome insight. A distant sadness had been lingering over him like a cloud from the moment she'd taken his hand and led him out of the falling snow into the healing house. And he'd been so closed off with her all morning, even though back in the old days (as far as she could remember) he never hid anything from her—he used to tell her _everything_—especially when something was wrong. And then there was that moment at breakfast, when Tenzin had so abruptly put them on the spot, asking if they'd be married—and the strange look that had come into Aang's eyes at the question...

That look. She hadn't known quite what to make of it then, but she hadn't bothered to give it much thought. He'd seemed confused, caught off guard by Tenzin, but nothing more... That's how it had appeared to her at the time, at least. But now—now she began to think about it more carefully, trying to recall it more clearly, wondering and dreading... Now in her mind, it seemed like a look of unmistakable panic, uncertainty, terror.

Was that really how it was, though? Or was she only imagining it that way now, being overly paranoid again—letting her anxiety get the better of her?

But then, after that, he'd run away from her. So abruptly, almost frantic to get away...

And now, here, only minutes ago—telling her that he loved her, in a voice that seemed to say he'd already given up hope that his love would be returned.

... All of these thoughts were pure torment.

_What's wrong with him? Why would he think that? Why would he talk that way? WHY?_

Of course... there was one glaringly obvious answer to that question, and it was practically beating her over the head now, demanding to be confronted. But Katara paced faster, shoved her hands deeper into her parka, shook her head violently, and refused—fiercely, stubbornly refused—to acknowledge it. She couldn't. Because if that _was _the answer...

Hadn't she done enough to make up for her past mistakes by now? Hadn't she done more than enough to prove the sincerity of her feelings? How could she be more blatant about what she wanted? How could he not _see?_—She went all the way to the Spirit World to bring him back! She fought the Face-Stealer—she _stole the Face-Stealer's face_—she saved Aang, saved everyone. She'd done what no one had ever done, what everyone said was impossible, all for him!... For crying out loud, just the simple fact that she'd waited so long for him, she hadn't let go of him for _five years_. In spite of the horrible probability that he was simply gone forever—when anyone else would have moved on with their lives—she still hadn't let go. She'd held onto him far past the point of reason, because she just _couldn't_ let him go. Wasn't that enough to prove it, just on its own?

And it wasn't like she'd been exactly... _subtle _about her feelings since he'd been back, either.

_He can't really—he can't really think that I...? He can't really not know...? He can't really still be upset because of...?_

But what if he was?

Something nervous and sour boiled in her stomach. What if he was?

_But what more could I possibly do to make him forgive me? What more could he want?_

She couldn't stand to think about it, because—because, honestly, she didn't think she _could _do anything more. And that was the worst thought of all. Perhaps she really hadn't done enough. Perhaps she could never do enough...

She'd been imagining, for so long now, that as soon as Aang was alive again, all would instantly be fixed. Whatever awful mistakes she'd once made would be immediately eradicated, as if they'd never happened at all. And Aang would finally be hers again, like he always should have been. And she'd finally be able to tell him yes, like she should have from the start. Getting him back had been the difficult part, but she'd already done that. Wasn't this supposed to be the part where they lived happily ever after, and everything finally turned out the way it should have been all along?

But for some reason, that wasn't happening. And she couldn't understand why, and she didn't know what else to do, and it was driving her mad.

But maybe—maybe—maybe she was just reading too much into things. Maybe she really was just being paranoid again. Maybe she still felt guilty about that whole rejection thing from five years ago, and so was jumping to conclusions, assuming that the smallest note of sorrow in Aang's voice _must _be her fault. But that wasn't necessarily true; it wasn't even necessarily probable. Right? After all, it was so long ago, and she'd done so much for him... And on top of that, Aang certainly had more than enough reasons right now to sound a little sad, didn't he?—many of which had nothing to do with her at all.

Anyway, maybe he hadn't been quite as sad as she thought. Maybe she'd just misinterpreted his tone, and misjudged the look in his eyes. Maybe he was fine—just like he said he was. Sure, he was probably tired, stressed, a little overwhelmed; that was understandable. But in general, he was completely fine. If there was something seriously wrong, he'd tell her so.

For a few seconds, Katara tried her hardest to make herself believe that. And failed utterly.

Even after all these years apart, she knew him too well for that.

Nearly bursting with frustration, desperate for some outlet for release, some way to evade the maddening tedium of simply sitting still and waiting for Zuko and Aang to return, with only these unbearable thoughts to keep her occupied, Katara released a loud, growling sigh into the air, and the falling snowflakes around her darted away, swelling and swirling in response to the intensity of her emotions. Waterfalls fell into a canal on either side of the wide steps at the palace entrance, and Katara almost absentmindedly pulled forth a long ribbon of water from the canal on her right, arching it through the air over her head and into the canal on her left. Then she did it again, only left-to-right this time. And again, back and forth. Then she took the water and swept its curling length off in Appa's direction, splashing the bison's nose playfully and eliciting a surprised grunt from him.

The sound of soft applause caught her ear, and Katara turned to see that a small crowd of people had stopped to watch her Waterbending. Katara blushed a bit, rather embarrassed—she'd been so caught up in her own thoughts, she'd somehow forgotten that anyone else was around.

After a moment, everyone went back to their business, and Katara sat heavily down on the steps, sighing again anxiously.

"Mind if I join you?"

This time when she glanced back, it was Ursa she saw, descending the steps to come sit beside her.

"Oh—um, sure," Katara muttered distractedly, hoping that Ursa wouldn't want to talk too much. Katara wasn't in much of a conversational mood at the moment. And anyway, she'd been feeling a little awkward around Ursa all morning, thanks to the unresolved strangeness of herself and Zuko.

Ursa sat down beside Katara, pulling her parka more tightly around herself and shivering a bit. The cold definitely seemed not to suit her very well, though thus far she'd endured it without complaint.

"What were you doing out here?" Ursa asked her, with a small smile. "Other than entertaining strangers with your impressive Waterbending skills."

Katara shrugged. "Nothing," she replied, with miserable honesty, and sighed again. "Nothing at all. Just a whole lot of useless, time-wasting _nothing_."

Ursa's small smile turned into a wry, but sympathetic, smirk. "You don't much like doing nothing, do you?"

"I can't stand it," Katara admitted, closing her eyes for a moment. "Especially when something like this is going on. Zuko and Aang are out there, dealing with it right now—and I'm just here, waiting... It's not that I hate waiting or anything. It's just... I feel like I should be there, with them. But I'm not."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

Katara stared at the ground, and didn't answer her immediately. "Well," she finally murmured, "Aang said he wanted to do it on his own. And—I mean, he—he needs his space, you know." The last part of her sentence came out so feeble that Katara herself thought it sounded utterly ridiculous.

Ursa studied her carefully. "You're worried about him?"

For a brief instant, Katara was tempted to deny it—to pretend that everything was fine, that she was completely unconcerned. But she couldn't think of an actual good reason to do so; she knew it wouldn't make her feel any less worried. So at last, with another heavy sigh, she nodded.

"Yeah, I am," she said softly. Then, after a pause, she added, "About both of them"—feeling oddly anxious suddenly for Ursa to know that Zuko was not entirely absent from her thoughts either. But as soon as she said it, she felt very strange and uncomfortable—guilty, even—and thought that maybe her urge to include Zuko was wrong. She blushed a little, and murmured sheepishly, "But—mostly Aang."

"Hm." Ursa seemed to hesitate then, as if uncertain about what she wanted to say, and breathed deeply of the cold air. At last, she said quietly, "I do wish all this business with Azula was behind us. I know something needs to be done, but honestly this seems so—well, _drastic_, as the Avatar said."

"I know," Katara murmured, shuddering a bit. "I'm sorry. It must be really hard to have this happen to your own daughter, even though—I mean, you have to admit, she brought it on herself."

"Oh, yes—yes, I know she has," Ursa agreed softly, her voice strained with remorse. "I still wish it all could have turned out differently, though... But—since it isn't _going_ to turn out differently, I think I'd much prefer it if it was already over. This waiting is worse than anything."

"Hm," Katara said too, nodding a bit.

"I'm like you," Ursa sighed. "I feel like I ought to be there. Zuko carries so much on his own. And Azula..." She trailed off briefly, with a look of deep regret and grief.

Katara wondered what she was thinking—wondered if perhaps Ursa felt she ought to be there for her daughter, for both of her children, in what would surely be one of the darkest moments of their lives. Azula losing her bending, and Zuko forced to inflict that fate upon his own sister. Katara wasn't sure that _she'd_ be able to handle it, if it were her children.

Hastily, though, Ursa shook her head, as if trying to shake her own thoughts away. "No," she muttered. "It's better that I'm not there. I know I would only make it worse. Azula hates me—"

"She hates all of us," Katara put in.

"Well, yes. That's true, too." Ursa closed her eyes, massaging her temples wearily. "But—I don't know. She's..." The older woman hesitated again, searching for words and finding none, and finally sighed once more in defeat, "I don't know. Something about this whole thing still seems wrong to me. But I really don't know what else could be done."

Katara didn't say anything. She only shut her own eyes tightly, and hugged her knees close to her chest, trying not to think of how wrong it all felt to her, too.

Ursa watched Katara, waiting for a reply. Perhaps she was hoping for Katara to agree with her, to affirm her feelings of wrongness. But Katara only kept silent. So finally, Ursa gave up and changed the subject.

"So," she began, very carefully. "_Aang_... Is he—all right, do you think?"

That question startled Katara into alertness, and she glanced at Ursa uneasily out of the corner of her eye.

"Why?" she asked, trying not to sound defensive, or alarmed—but her voice squeaked a bit against her will. "I mean—why do you ask? What do you mean, _all right? _Why wouldn't he be all right?"

"Oh, I don't know, exactly," Ursa shrugged, frowning at the ground in deep thought. "Something just struck me as a little—_off_, about him. But, of course, I barely know him, so..." She glanced at Katara. "You hadn't noticed anything?"

Katara stared at her, heart pounding. So Ursa had noticed something, too? Then that proved it wasn't just in Katara's imagination—she wasn't just being paranoid. If Ursa, who knew nothing about Aang, had sensed something off, then something must really be off.

"Well, I—" Katara stammered, her voice suddenly dry and unsteady. Now she turned her own eyes to the ground, furrowing her brow deeply. "I mean, he—he's probably just a little overwhelmed by everything. That's probably what it is... Don't you think?"

Ursa studied her, and something like worry flickered in her eyes. "Well, yes, I—I suppose that might be all it is, but—"

"But—I don't know," Katara interrupted her, shaking her head in distress, and suddenly the words came gushing out of her: "You're right—you're right, something's wrong. I don't know what it is, though. I don't know why he's not okay. I mean—he should be, shouldn't he? I know he hasn't been back for very long, but he should be fine now, right? The hard part's over. I saved him, I brought him back—it's all done. It should all be fixed now, shouldn't it? He has to know that I... I mean—I don't know. I just get the feeling that he..." She couldn't bring herself to say what she meant—that she feared Aang was somehow still broken, still bitter about their fallout long ago—because she was afraid that actually uttering the words aloud would somehow make it true. But after a moment she stammered feebly, "He—he has to know I love him, right? He _has _to know... Don't you think so?"

She gazed at Ursa hopefully, desperate for confirmation. Then, suddenly, she blushed ferociously and looked away, as it struck her how awkward this conversation was—that she would be confiding in Ursa about her relationship with Aang—considering that Ursa's interests probably lay... elsewhere.

Ursa did take a long while to respond, studying Katara with a curious, inscrutable stare. She seemed concerned, slightly surprised, slightly bewildered, slightly uncomfortable... but also strangely knowing—as if she somehow understood more about the situation than Katara herself did. At last, she gave Katara a small smile, and patted her hand gently. Katara thought that the woman was trying very hard to be reassuring and comforting, but there was an unmistakable sense of unease and uncertainty about the gesture.

"He'd have to blind not to see it," she said, and the words were completely honest—though something about Ursa's tone said that perhaps she feared Aang might actually _be _blind. She exhaled deeply, and her gaze turned suddenly inward, brewing with troubled sorrow. "Anyone can see how much you care about him. Anyone."

Katara watched her. Something about that final _anyone _carried a great deal of meaning, but she wasn't sure what to make of it. Whatever it was, it unsettled her a bit.

Ursa looked at her then, her eyes full of more of that same indecipherable meaning, earnest and anxious. "Be _careful_, dear," she said.

Katara frowned uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Ursa said, choosing her words tentatively, "Katara, you are a young woman who wears all her emotions on her sleeve, whether you realize you do or not. And you are currently carrying two hearts in your hands, which isn't an easy thing to do without breaking one, or both, or hurting yourself in the meantime... Just keep in mind that they both have eyes on you. Try to be careful what you wear on your sleeve, if you know what I mean."

By the end of Ursa's cautionary speech, Katara was frowning indignantly, beginning to boil once more with the same frustration she'd felt earlier after Zuko had slipped away from breakfast—the frustration that she couldn't display her affection for Aang without hurting Zuko. It was unfortunate, yes; she felt terrible for making Zuko so unhappy—but what could she do about it? Only show her affection when no one else was around? Keep her distance from Aang whenever Zuko happened to be looking? Oh yes, because that was _exactly _what she and Aang needed right now—for her to keep him at a distance and give him even more reason to question her feelings for him! She wished Ursa would just mind her own business. Katara had more than enough to worry about just with Aang; she couldn't handle any extra worries about Zuko on top of that, and she definitely couldn't waste her energy trying not to displease Zuko's mother.

"Look," Katara said, a little more snappishly than she intended, too worn out with anxiety to bother hiding her frustration, "I—I'm sorry, Ursa. I'm sorry. I guess you probably think I'm being some kind of horrible... tease, don't you? But I'm really not _trying _to be. I don't want to hurt Zuko, I really don't, but I can't help it if he—"

"No, please listen," Ursa insisted, shaking her head hastily, "It isn't only Zuko I'm concerned about. Even though—" She sighed again wearily, and closed her eyes as if with some aching affliction. "Even though, I _do _wish you'd be careful around Zuko. He isn't having the easiest time of it, you know..." She trailed off with an embarrassed frown, and stared hard at the icy ground. "I understand you can't help the way you feel, or the way Zuko feels about you... But even still, _you_ must try to understand that _I_ can't help wanting to protect him. He's my son, after all. Don't you understand that, Katara?—wouldn't you want to save your own little Tenzin from heartbreak, if you could?"

Katara clenched her jaw tightly shut, but wouldn't look at Ursa, because of course she _did _understand, and she felt thoroughly miserable about it—but she didn't want Ursa to see that.

"Zuko is still recovering from you, remember," Ursa went on, and her voice was suddenly a little stern. "Just try not to forget that. You know... you know, he cares about you very much, dear."

Katara sighed, and the misery and shame nearly overwhelmed her. First she'd trampled Aang with her selfish fears, and then she'd ruined Zuko with her careless needs. How had she managed to break _both _of them? Katara began to suspect—and not for the first time—that she was secretly a terrible person.

"I know," she breathed regretfully. "I know he does. I—I wish he didn't, though. Not as much, at least."

"Me too," Ursa admitted, adding a little awkwardly, "Nothing personal, of course."

Katara shook her head. "I don't mean to hurt him, you know," she said again, sadly. "I care about him too."

"I know you do," said Ursa, with a grim change of tone. She fixed Katara with a probing stare. "And that's the other reason you must be very careful, Katara."

Katara looked at her, furrowing her brow confusedly.

"I know," Ursa sighed again, looking away from Katara as she spoke, "I know that you still have feelings for Zuko—"

At once Katara opened her mouth to interrupt, but Ursa quickly held up a hand and went on.

"No, no, listen. I'm not trying to suggest that you feel the same way about Zuko as you do about the Avatar. I know it's not the same. You made your choice long ago, and Aang is the one you chose. I understand that, don't worry, and I'm certainly not trying to convince you otherwise. But, Katara... Zuko still holds a small place in your heart as well. It's plain to see that he does. _Too _plain. Remember what I said, about how you wear your emotions on your sleeve?"

Katara could only stare at her, quite taken aback, while a violent heat crept up her neck and into her face.

"And if I can see it," she went on, slowly now, in a gentler voice, "then anyone else might see it, too. Someone who—who might not understand. And that could turn out very badly for you." She probed Katara with a grave stare. "You see what I mean?"

Still speechless, Katara only blinked at her, stirring with turbulent emotions.

"So," Ursa finished, "please—_please _be careful, Katara. I know this may not be any of my business—and maybe you don't believe that I'm really just looking out for you, without any ulterior motive. That's fine. You can believe anything you want about me. But I promise, the last thing I want is for you and Aang to fall apart, after you've worked so hard and hoped for so long. I think you need to search your heart very carefully, and if there is something there that doesn't belong, you _must _let it go, even if it's painful. Because I'm afraid... I'm afraid that it may cause you a great deal more pain in the long run, and Aang and Zuko too, if you don't let it go." She paused, and studied Katara intently, asking again: "Understand?"

Katara furrowed her brow, troubled, and unsure how to respond to all that. But before she could think of something to say, a single tall figure caught her eye, making his way through the gateway and across the courtyard towards them: Zuko.

Ursa's eyes followed Katara's, and caught sight of Zuko as well. The next instant, both of them were on their feet. And without thinking, Katara flew down the palace steps and across the wide snowy space to meet him.

"Zuko!" she cried, and almost threw her arms around him in a relieved hug—but then she stopped short, partly because Ursa was still watching and Katara had no idea whether or not that sort of gesture was appropriate anymore between herself and Zuko...

... And, most importantly, because she saw that he'd returned alone.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

"Where's Aang?" she demanded, voice faltering.

Zuko looked tired, and lost, and bewildered; he just stared at Katara blankly for a moment.

"He's not here?" he asked at last.

It was the worst possible response he could have given her.

"_You don't know where he is?_" she cried frantically, and the resonance of her voice made the icy ground around the courtyard crack and quake.

Zuko flinched a bit at her panicked shout—suddenly getting flashbacks to fourteen year-old Katara's hostile promise to destroy him if anything happened to Aang. For a second, he wondered nervously if that death threat was still in effect. He scratched his head uneasily, eyes shifting, and opened his mouth to speak. But he didn't manage to get anything out before Katara cut him off, gripping his arms fiercely, her eyes wide with frenzy.

"_What_ _happened?_" she thundered. "Tell me what happened, Zuko! Did something happen to Aang? Was it Azula? Did she do something to him? What happened? How could you just _lose _him? You should have been looking out for him! You _know _he's not okay right now! _You're_ the one who insisted on him doing this! He _told _you he didn't feel right about it! Why did you have to make him do it?! Why didn't you—?!"

"Katara, calm down!" came Ursa's voice behind her, stern and sharp—but also quivering with worry.

But even before that, Zuko's face had begun to transform into an indignant scowl, his already exhausted temper flaring up at her angry shouts. After being abandoned by Aang without any real explanation, and facing the walk back to the palace alone, trying to think of some way to break the news to everyone that Azula was still just as dangerous as ever—Zuko couldn't deal with Katara's unreasonable rage on top of that.

"I didn't _make _him do anything!" He took hold of her wrists and pried her fingers away from him, holding her still and matching her furious, frightened gaze with a hard glare of his own. "And I didn't _lose _him—he just ran away! So stop yelling at me. It's not my fault."

"But what happened?" she demanded again, wrenching her hands away from him fiercely. "Something went wrong! Azula did something—she did something, didn't she? _What happened, _Zuko?"

"I—I don't know!" he growled, shaking his head in frustration. "Aang went in to do it, and he seemed like he was fine, but then—he just ran away. He just ran off. I don't know why."

"You mean he didn't take her bending away?" Ursa asked, trotting up anxiously alongside Katara, her eyes fixed intently on Zuko.

Zuko shook his head again at his mother, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead wearily with an exhausted sigh. "No... He didn't take her bending away."

"Why not?" Katara asked.

"I _just _said, I don't know why not!" Zuko retorted impatiently.

"Well, didn't he _say_ something?" she insisted, aggravated. "Was he upset? Was he scared, or angry, or—?"

"All he said was that he couldn't do it today," Zuko interrupted her, in an exasperated grumble. "That's it. He wouldn't tell me anything else."

"And you just let him run off?!" Katara cried.

"Well, what should I have done?" Zuko demanded furiously. "He's a lot faster than I am! And I thought he'd come back here anyway, because you're here. How was I supposed to know? What was I supposed to _do?_ I'm not his babysitter, Katara!"

Katara scowled bitterly, with a vicious scoff. "You just don't care. You don't care what happens to him at all, do you? All you care about is fixing your own problems, and never _once _do you stop to think about—"

"That's not true!" Zuko looked genuinely injured by that remark. "You _know _that's not true!"

"Did it ever occur to you that Aang's dealing with his own problems right now?" she went on furiously, eyes swimming and voice wavering with the intensity of her emotions. "Just imagine what it must be like for him—think about what he must be going through right now! And then you just go and toss in Azula on top of all that—"

"But he agreed to—"

"_Yes_, because _you _wouldn't let it go! You just _had _to keep pushing it! What else was he going to do, Zuko? How could he possibly have said no?"

"He's _perfectly capable _of saying no, Katara! He's not helpless!" Zuko tore his fingers through his hair, growling in fierce frustration. "You're acting like a crazy person!"

"I am _not _acting like a—!"

"_HUSH!_" Ursa interjected sternly, coming to stand between the two of them and fixing them both with a scolding glower. "Stop it, you two! There's no use in fighting." She inhaled deeply, calming herself. "Now. I'm sure Aang had a good reason for changing his mind, and I'm sure he hasn't gone far. So both of you, just _calm down._"

Katara was still trembling with emotion, finding it impossible to bring her rapidly pounding heart down to a slower, more reasonable pace. "But Aang—"

"—is a grown man, and capable of making his own decisions, Katara," Ursa interrupted her, sending her a stern look. "You know he is. After all, he _is _the Avatar. I think he can take care of himself, no matter what difficulties he may be going through at the moment. However—" She turned her stern frown in Zuko's direction, "Katara is also right, Zuko. It was much too soon to push him to do this. I know we all want Azula to be taken care of as soon as possible, but I think that this just goes to show how important it is for us to not be too rash about it. But I'm sure it will all be resolved soon enough, especially once Aang has had some time to recover."

Zuko just released another long, weary sigh, pressing his fingers into his eyelids and searching the icy ground for a moment. But Katara glared at both of them, clenching her jaw fiercely, still trembling with frantic aggravation. Zuko lifted up his eyes to meet hers again, and the bewildered exhaustion in his gaze did soften her a bit. But she still closed her eyes and shook her head after a second.

"I'm going to go look for him," she announced, with quiet intensity. So saying, she turned on her heels and jogged quickly off in Appa's direction, leaving Zuko and his mother behind.

Before she reached Appa, she could hear Zuko's footsteps behind her, following her. But she didn't slow down or turn back. As soon as she reached the bison, she lifted herself into the air on a small spout of water, landing gracefully on his back. Only then, just as Zuko caught up to her, did she glance back, pausing before takeoff to give him a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say to her.

He slowed to a stop beside Appa, putting his hand on the bison's neck and gazing up at her with shame and uncertainty in his eyes.

"You'll find him, Katara, don't worry," he said quietly. "He wouldn't have gone very far. Not without you."

"Thanks," she murmured, frowning a little at him. "Are you going to be okay?"

Zuko closed his eyes, grimacing a bit. "The Chief's not going to be happy about this. He wants Azula out of the city. And I think he'd be pretty happy to see me gone, too." He sighed again. "I don't know what I'm going to say."

Katara didn't reply immediately—but she did soften more, feeling sorry that she'd shouted at him. She gave him a gentle look. "Just tell him the truth. He'll understand. You're doing your best, that's all. Some things are just out of your control."

Now Zuko kept silent, and turned his eyes back up to her, studying her for a second or two. And somehow, in that small moment of regretful silence between them, Katara got the feeling that something had changed between herself and Zuko, just in the short time he'd been away with Aang. Some connection had been severed; something had been relinquished. She didn't know what it was, but it made her feel, oddly, both relieved and sad at the same time. Relieved, because it seemed that Zuko was a step closer now to letting her go for good, that he might truly begin to heal. But also sad, because he seemed so strangely far away now, and she feared that by the time all this was over the gulf between them might be too wide to even be bridged by their friendship.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," she muttered mournfully.

He dropped his eyes to the ground. "Yeah. Me too."

They both fell silent again, and both of them knew that these succinct apologies were not simply meant for the small spat they'd just had, but were far-reaching, meant to encompass every wrong they'd ever done to one another.

At last, Katara leaned down, gripped Appa's fur in her hands, and cried, "Yip yip!"

* * *

><p>Aang had fled, running, from the prison, with no clear idea of where he was going—just that he needed to get away.<p>

But he'd stopped running now; he'd stopped running as soon as he was far enough away from the prison that he couldn't see it anymore. His feet now dragged through the icy streets at a listless, haltering trudge, weighted down by the cloud of shame that had been gathering over him, growing heavier the farther away he got. He still wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he wasn't far from where he _should _have been going: the tiered roof of the Chief's palace towered very close by. The palace—where everyone would be awaiting his return, expecting to hear the good news that he'd dealt with Azula and they could all sleep peacefully again. All of them, trusting him to do what he told them he would—make them safe again, and see that justice was carried out. That was his job, after all, wasn't it? That was what he was here for.

_Failure._

_Weakling._

_Coward._

With every staggering step he took, Aang was finding it harder and harder to remember why he hadn't done it. All his reasons for backing down were beginning to seem more and more like flimsy excuses.

He passed over bridges and stumbled alongside canals, staring at the ground before his feet, pressing his fingers hard against his throbbing head, while passersby shuffled along around him. He could sense several of them gawking at him and his tattoos; he could hear them murmuring to one another; he often caught the sound of his own name amid the excited whispers and chatters.

He wished they would stop looking at him. He yearned to become invisible. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him at all to be noticed and recognized—but today, after everything that had happened and the way he was feeling right now, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to be a spectacle—with all his confusion, his failure, his fear, his pitiful weakness, his still-broken and baffled heart, and his uncomfortable fake _oldness_, all on display for everyone to ogle. All that alone was bad enough; but it was especially unbearable now, while his skull was splitting with that merciless migraine, which only seemed to grow worse with every step he took—and his eyesight was still so congested with those bizarre inky spots that he could hardly see where he was walking at times—and his ears were still ringing with the cruel sound of Azula's shrieks—and that unshakable, unexplainable frigid terror was still strangling his heart, chilling the blood in his veins, burrowing cruel, biting words deep into his bones...

_Run run run—keep running—that's what you do, isn't it?_

_Failure Weakling Coward._

_You'd leave them all in danger, rather than do what needs to be done..._

_But _they _won't say so, not to your face. It's not right to say those sorts of things to a hero._

_No wonder she got sick of you._

Azula's words were tormenting him, like a cloud of vicious buzzing mosquitoes. Each one was a million more spears through his head. Aang groaned, stumbling a bit as he walked, pressing his palms against his temples in a vain attempt to crush his agonizing headache. Somehow his conversation with Azula had exacerbated the migraine into something more than a migraine—into an excruciating, pulsing pain that shook his entire body in its efforts to explode right out of his skull. He felt as if some angry beast were trapped inside his head, trying to batter its way out, and the repeating echoes of Azula's voice in his mind were driving the beast into a frenzy.

And that was hardly the _only _thing wrong with him at the moment.

He wasn't just feeling sick—it was more than that. He didn't know what it was, but he felt as if something strange and frightening and dark had crept into his heart while he slept. The feeling had been growing on him ever since his awakening—but only now did he begin to wonder, with cold dread, if perhaps it wasn't something that he could merely shake off after a few hours. He was still consumed with cold—an invasive kind of cold that felt as if it would never leave him, no matter where he went or how many fur blankets he wrapped himself in. And, perhaps strangest of all, he was still rippling now and then with uncontrollable fury, ignited by the lingering memories of Azula's words: he could still feel the sharp remnants of that fiery rage that had overcome him in the prison—the unfamiliar but powerful desire to violently punish Azula because... _because_.

What was wrong with him? It wasn't normal for him to get so angry that he actually _wanted _to hurt someone, or to lose control and do it in a sudden fit of rage, or to go on thinking about it afterward. The only other time in his life he could remember ever deliberately hurting another living thing out of pure, indirected rage was when he was young—when Appa had been stolen by the Sandbenders in the desert, and after a day or two, when Aang's violent grief had built to its limit, he'd struck out needlessly at a buzzard-wasp that had tried to abduct Momo, even though the wasp had already surrendered and flown off on its way.

But Azula was no buzzard-wasp; she was a human being, no matter how demented and heartless she might be. Yet he'd struck out at her too, while she was subdued and powerless to fight back, even after he'd already decided to leave. It had come upon him so abruptly, too—he'd almost been more surprised by it than Azula was. And though he still bitterly wished that he hadn't given her the pleasure of getting a rise out of him, that sudden outburst apparently hadn't been enough to satisfy his surge of rage: it burned even still. Something in him _still _wanted to hurt her, for everything she'd said. If she was there before him now, he knew he'd probably strike her again, to put an end to all those hateful words that stabbed at his heart. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself.

And that terrified him more than anything.

More than any sickness, or any Face-Stealer, or any cruelty Azula's twisted mind could conjure... Aang terrified himself.

That lack of restraint, that violent rage—that wasn't him. He didn't know where it came from, but it felt alien and intrusive too, something that didn't fully belong to him. Just like the cold that lingered in his bones and those swirling spots in his eyes. The hammering beast trying to burst out of his head wasn't the only foreign, monstrous thing lurking inside him at the moment.

Something was wrong with him. It wasn't just an ordinary sickness—but what was it? All he could think was, again, that it must be some side effect of being in the Spirit World for so long, or from his long sleep after coming back. Or perhaps it was a residual symptom from having his face stolen, or from aging five years so rapidly. Or perhaps it had something to do with his few minutes of death before Katara and Yue had brought him back...

Aang shuddered again, trembling with a fearful chill. He wanted to believe it was just something temporary, something unnatural and invasive, like a poison or a parasite—he wanted to believe that none of this darkness or anger was really his. But he feared, more than anything, that maybe it was just _him_—all of it. Maybe something essential had changed within him thanks to everything he'd been through lately, and he was a different person now. Maybe something had... _broken_. Somehow, he'd lost hold of some crucial aspect of who he was, sometime during that five year-long night between yesterday and today, and now he was a stranger to himself. Now he couldn't protect the people he loved, and all his simple joys and inner peace had abandoned him, and he'd never be the same. Not because he was sick, but because this was who he _was _now, and there was no going back. His old self was lost forever, stolen along with all the years of life he'd missed.

Aang stumbled over his own feet as he walked, and the migraine lanced through his head. For a moment he leaned against a building, allowing the sharp burst of pain to subside. His body shook with numb cold, and those strange black spots almost seemed to laugh in his eyes.

What was wrong with him?

He couldn't stop asking himself that. The question had been haunting him ever since Katara's rejection, and it had only grown more complicated and more unanswerable since then.

Without consciously thinking about it, he allowed his hand to drift into his pocket, and his fingers brushed against the betrothal necklace. The touch of it shocked him like a painful spark of static, and his fist closed around it almost reflexively, muscles trembling. His feet began to move forward, carrying him off, guided only by a storm of desperate urgency.

The healing house. He'd go to the healing house. He couldn't go back to the palace—if he went back there, he'd have to explain his failure to everyone. He'd have to keep on being the Avatar, keep on pretending to be in control, shove all his problems aside because everyone wanted—_needed—_him to be fine. But he just couldn't do that—he wasn't fine. If he went to the healing house instead, then he could rest—he could just _rest_. And Katara would find him there. Katara could heal him.

Everything in him ached for her suddenly. All at once, Katara was the only thing he wanted. He wanted her bright eyes and her soft voice and the touch of her fingers and the warmth of her heartbeat and the relief of holding her in his arms. He wanted to tell her about everything: all the things that were wrong with him, all his fears and weaknesses. He wanted to stop trying to pretend he was okay and just tell her the truth: I'm hurting all over, Katara—I don't know what to do—I'm not sure who I am anymore—I need you.

The healing house wasn't far. He could see it peering over the roofs of the surrounding buildings. He'd be there in a moment, and Katara would find him there.

Katara could subdue the monster in his head, take the chill out of his bones, clear the muddy darkness from his eyes. She could figure out why he wasn't strong enough to take away Azula's bending, and why he'd lost control of his anger in the prison. She could help him remember why all those vicious things Azula had said to him were wrong. She would know what to say to drive away his terrors, and repair whatever was broken about him, and fill him up with comfort and peace again, and remind him who he was. She could fix him. She always did.

She always did.

_Except..._

_Except..._

His fingers clenched the necklace in his pocket tighter. His feet faltered a bit.

_Except for that time she ripped your heart out._

Pain shot through him like a lightning bolt, halting him in his tracks for a moment. He groaned in agony and clutched his head with one hand, his heart with the other—unsure where the source of the pain actually was.

Katara could fix him—but then, she was one of the main reasons he needed fixing in the first place. He'd always trusted her to heal him, yet she'd broken him worse than anything. And she could do it again. Easily.

For a few seconds, he hesitated to take another step. But then—stubbornly—he went on, back to the healing house, telling himself _no_—it wouldn't happen again. She wouldn't do it to him again. He needed her; he loved her. Maybe this time it would be okay, like it should have been all along.

Glancing up, he saw suddenly the shape of Appa, flying through the air towards the healing house, with Katara on his back.

Aang's feet halted immediately. His breath caught in his throat. His hand nearly crushed the betrothal necklace in his pocket.

He could talk himself into believing it wouldn't happen a second time. It would be easy to talk himself into it. He _wanted _to believe it—he longed to trust her, just the way he always had before...

But if he did—if he allowed himself to trust her again, and convinced himself it would actually be okay this time—then she could do it to him again. Katara could destroy him more thoroughly than anyone else in the world had the power to.

Katara brought Appa down to land at the healing house. They vanished behind the buildings that lay between him and the house—but Aang knew it wasn't far.

He tried to force his feet forward again. They wouldn't move.

But—but—she wouldn't hurt him. She'd saved him from Koh. She'd saved his life. She'd brought him back. She wanted to marry him now. She said that she loved him. She _said_. Maybe she really did. Maybe she did...

_But you thought she loved you before, too._

Aang's eyes suddenly burned with tears—hot, angry, anguished tears. He was hurting all over, hurting and hurting, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so completely alone, or so utterly confused. He'd never thought it was possible for one person to inspire so much love and so much fear, so much longing and so much distrust, all at the same time, the way Katara did to him now.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

_You thought she loved you, and she crushed you._

_How can you ever be sure you can trust her again?_

He couldn't. He couldn't be sure. Maybe he never would be again. Maybe it was ruined forever.

No—but—but she'd saved him. She wanted him now. She'd changed her mind. And he loved her.

_And if she changes her mind so easily, what's to keep her from changing it again?_

_Go ahead and trust her, if you like. But you know she's only going to hurt you again._

But—

But—

But—he loved her.

Aang found he couldn't think of any other protest. That was all he had. He loved her. He needed her.

_Yes. You need her. But she doesn't need you._

The headache battered him mercilessly. A couple of those burning tears managed to escape from his eyes, rolling down the side of his face and turning to crusty frost in the cold air.

No—that was true. She didn't need him. Not the way he needed her. She'd never needed him as much as he needed her...

_And here you are, feeling sad and confused and weak after your failure, wanting her to fix you again. Just like she always does..._

_You expect her to heal you and comfort you, on top of everything else she's already done! But what have you done for her?—Other than leave her to raise your son alone for five years?_

_You couldn't even protect them like you said you would! You couldn't even do that one thing... And yet you still expect her to fix all your problems for you._

_No wonder she still thinks of you as a child._

_No wonder she got sick of you._

He couldn't face Katara. His head was splitting open, and his limbs were overcome with heavy cold, and he could hardly see through the dizzy spots swirling in his eyes. He still needed healing, and Katara would no doubt be worried about him—but he couldn't face her. Not right now. What would he tell her? How could he admit to her that he'd failed, that he hadn't been able to handle his responsibility, he hadn't done what needed to be done to keep both her and her son—_their _son—safe? And after being so foolishly insistent that he could do it, too. After all his show of confidence, his stupid façade of composure, he hadn't managed to do the task she'd been trying so hard to protect him from. He hadn't been strong enough. Just like she'd thought—just like she'd _known_, from the very beginning. And if she found out about his strange sickness too, in addition to his failure, it would only be worse. She'd probably make a huge fuss, confine him to his bed for another week or so, refuse to let him out of her sight for a second, thanks to her bizarre paranoia. She'd only begin to view him more and more like a child, weak and helpless and useless—just like before. Just like before, when she'd given him that look that said he wasn't mature enough, he wasn't good enough, he hadn't thought enough about anything. And if he went on allowing her to take care of him all the time—if he kept on asking more and more from her, after everything she'd already done—then he'd only become even more hopelessly indebted to her than he already was. He'd only allow himself to become inescapably hers again—hers to crush as thoroughly as she wished. Just like before.

No, no, no—he couldn't face her. Not right now. The thought of it made his stomach curdle.

Aang turned. He turned and ran—away from the healing house, as fast as he could.

* * *

><p>Tenzin sat perched on the wall that encircled the healing house, shading his eyes against the bright arctic sunlight as he gazed intently in the direction of the palace, straining to catch a glimpse of his parents returning on Appa's back. Momo sat beside him on the wall, scratching himself lazily every now and then. Tenzin's little fingers brushed over the lemur's fuzzy head and down his back, though the boy was so absorbed in watching that he hardly thought about what his fingers were doing at all.<p>

He didn't know how long it had been since his mother left in search of his father, but it felt like ages—unbearable, uneventful, tedious, torturous mountains of ages. Time seemed to have slowed nearly to a halt, just to torment him, cruelly stretching out his restless boredom for as long as possible.

Yet somehow, even though he felt the time was passing by at a snail-sloth's pace, Tenzin was also feeling anxious, paradoxically worried that the day was just going to slip away before he even knew what had happened. His very first day with a real father was going to come and go too quickly, completely wasted; soon it would be over, and he wouldn't even have done half the things that he wanted to do with Aang—they'd have hardly even seen each other at all.

There were so many things still to do—games to play, Airbending to learn, journeys to take, stories to hear, knowledge to share, connections to build. Who knew what they could have accomplished by now? All these long hours of lonely, monotonous boredom could have been spent being the center of Aang's whole day—the two of them playing and laughing and learning how to be with each other.

But instead, something else was currently taking up the center of Aang's day, robbing Tenzin of the time he'd been promised with his brand-new father. Tenzin didn't know what it was that had called Aang away for so long—but it _had _to be important, whatever it was. The only thing Tenzin wanted in the entire world right now was to spend the day with Aang; he wanted it so badly, he could only imagine that Aang must want it with equal intensity. Whatever was keeping him away, it had to be some really important Avatar-thing—surely nothing less would steal Aang's attention away from Tenzin for so long, or make him forget his promise to spend the day with him.

Tenzin surged with pride, thinking of what an important person his father was. And of course, as soon as this Avatar-business was done, he'd been back—he'd be back as soon as possible, to give Tenzin the day he'd been promised. Surely he wouldn't want to waste a single second more than was necessary.

Tenzin certainly didn't want to waste a single second. Thus, he was watching on the wall, hardly blinking, refusing to look away for even an instant. He wanted to spot his parents' return as soon as his eyes were capable of it. He wanted to be ready the moment they came back.

Behind him, in the courtyard down inside the walls, Tenzin heard soft footsteps approaching in the snow—but he didn't turn and look. Watching for Appa was too important. A moment later there was a quick gust of wind, and Yonten landed lightly on the wall beside him, sitting down and dangling his feet over the edge of the wall.

"Spotted anything interesting?"

Tenzin sighed deeply. "Not yet."

Yonten smiled at him a bit. "Well," he said slowly, turning his gaze out toward the palace. "Don't worry. They'll be back very soon, I'm sure."

"I'm not worried," Tenzin declared firmly, trying to exude an air of patient, grown-up understanding. He was the Avatar's son, after all—he had to play his part just as much as Aang did. "I know they're just doing some important stuff they have to do right now, and then they'll be back. Sort of like when Momma makes me clean my room before I'm allowed to play..." He paused thoughtfully, then added in a slightly wistful voice, "But I bet whatever they're doing is a lot more exciting than cleaning."

Yonten studied Tenzin a moment, with another small, pensive smile. Tenzin only kept staring straight ahead toward the palace.

"What do you think they're actually doing?" the boy asked after a few seconds. "It seems like they've been gone forever."

Yonten just shrugged. "I suppose they're probably deciding what ought to be done with Azula."

At that, Tenzin finally conceded to relax his watchful gaze, glancing sidelong at Yonten. "D'you think daddy's gonna take her bending away, like he did to the evil Fire Lord way back?"

"I believe that was Zuko's plan, wasn't it?"

"Maybe he's doing it right now," Tenzin mused, turning his eyes forward again, this time with an imaginative spark glistening in them—as if he could almost envision the scene: his father bravely facing Azula, announcing her sentence, solemnly coming forward to remove her Firebending—him a tower of strength and authority and goodness, and she reduced to a sniveling pile of fear at his feet. _Serves her right, _he thought fervently, satisfied at the justice of it.

"I suppose it's possible," Yonten agreed quietly, shrugging again. "Seems terribly fast, though. But then, they'd probably like to get it over with as soon as possible."

"Yeah. Maybe—I guess maybe he could have already done it!" Tenzin said. "I don't know how long it takes, though... I wonder what it looks like when it happens?" He trailed off pensively for a second, and then sighed again. "I wish I was there. I always heard about these things in the stories, y'know. I want to actually _see _it."

"Hm," Yonten murmured. "It would certainly be—interesting to see, yes. Though it's a rather awful thought, isn't it? To lose your bending? I don't think I would want to have that power. It seems like it would be far too easy to abuse it, if you weren't careful. But then again, he _is _the Avatar, so..."

"Yeah. And Azula's so evil." Tenzin frowned sternly. "She really deserves it, I think. She's more evil than the old Fire Lord used to be."

"Well," Yonten said reluctantly, "The old Fire Lord was pretty bad, from what I've heard. But yes... perhaps she does deserve it."

"My daddy won't be afraid of Azula, though," Tenzin said with conviction. "Because he's the Avatar. He's not afraid of anything. He'll take her bending away, and then all of us will be safe. And soon he's gonna come back, and we're gonna spend the whole rest of the day together. Me and him and Momma and everyone. And it'll all be perfect."

Yonten smiled quietly again at the little Airbender's eager optimism. Then suddenly, Tenzin leapt to his feet with a gasp, pointing excitedly toward the sky, causing Momo to tumble over with a startled squawk.

"There!" Tenzin cried. "I see Appa! They're coming back! _Finally!_"

And in an instant, he'd turned and leapt off the wall, gliding to the ground and landing rather clumsily on a billowy gust of air. For a second he stumbled, scrambling for his balance—but as soon as his feet were once more firmly planted, they carried him off, straight for the wide archway in the wall at the entrance to the healing house, to meet his parents as they landed.

His eyes were brighter than the sun, and he was breathless with excitement, by the time he skidded to a stop in the archway. But as Appa drew near—before he'd even landed—Tenzin's face fell in bewildered disappointment.

"Where's daddy?" he asked.

Katara slid swiftly off Appa's back before the bison's feet had even fully touched down, studying her son anxiously. "He didn't come back here?"

Tenzin shook his head, furrowing his brow confusedly.

For a second, Katara didn't say anything more—she only stared at Tenzin, then at the ground, breathing and breathing hard. Leaning against Appa's side, she closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, still sucking in air as if she couldn't manage to get enough.

"He didn't come back here," she muttered again, this time more of a statement than a question, and addressed more to herself than to Tenzin. "But where else would he have gone? Where would he go? Why wouldn't he have come back here?"

"Momma?" Tenzin asked, suddenly feeling anxious himself. He trotted quickly up to her and tugged on her sleeve to snap her out of her small panic attack. "What happened? Is daddy okay? Didn't you find him?"

She forced herself to take one long, slow breath, and shook her head distractedly. "No, I did," she finally stammered. "I found him, but—"

"He's gone again?"

A violent shudder rippled through her at the words, and for a second Tenzin feared she was going to burst into tears. But she managed to keep herself composed, struggling to breathe normally.

"No—no, there's no need to panic," she whispered fiercely, again more to herself than to Tenzin. "He's not _gone_. He's somewhere. Somewhere close. He wouldn't have gone far. He's got to be _somewhere_. There's no need to act crazy—"

"Is everything all right, Katara?" came Yonten's voice. He appeared in the archway behind Tenzin, scrutinizing Katara worriedly.

She glanced at him, swallowing hard. "Aang's run off," she finally explained. "He went with Zuko to take care of Azula, but then just ran off. I thought maybe he'd come back here, but..."

She trailed off, choking on some terrible lump in her throat, and covered her mouth as if she felt sick.

"This is all my fault," she whispered, her voice quivering softly, her blue eyes beginning to brim with tears. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him go. Something was wrong—I _knew _something was wrong—I shouldn't have let him go..."

"Katara," Yonten said gently, frowning at her with concern, "I'm sure he's all right, wherever he is. And I doubt he went very far."

"Yeah," Tenzin agreed carefully, taking hold of one of her hands. He was still perplexed, mystified by his father's strange behavior—running away? hiding? why would he do that?—but he trusted that there must be a good reason for it. "Daddy'll be okay. I bet he'll come back soon. He would want to be with us, right? So he probably isn't very far away. Maybe he just got lost?"

Katara exhaled deeply, beginning to calm herself a bit; she wiped a little tear from her eyes and smiled gratefully down at Tenzin, kneeling and pulling him tightly into her arms.

"Thanks, baby," she sighed. "You're right. I'm sure he's fine." She held him at arm's length, smiling, though she was still shaking slightly with anxious uncertainty—her smile merely a defense against the overwhelming, irrational panic. "You want to come look for him with me?"

"Yes!" Tenzin cried.

"Okay." She rose to her feet, glancing back at Yonten as Tenzin hastily sprang onto Appa's back. "Yonten...?"

"I'll tell Toph and Suki what's going on," he nodded, already guessing what she was about to ask. "We'll stay here in case he shows up."

"Thanks," she said, climbing onto Appa's back behind her little son. "We'll be back in a little while."

"Don't worry, Momma," Tenzin smiled reassuringly at her. "I bet we'll find him really fast."

"I hope so, sweetie," she murmured, doing her best to smile back.

* * *

><p>"He just ran off?" Sokka exclaimed. "That's it? But why?"<p>

"I _just _said, I don't know why," Zuko sighed wearily, rubbing his brow again and trying very hard not to get frustrated.

Chief Arnook only sat in his customary place on the steps beneath the arch, studying Zuko solemnly, a deep and difficult-to-read frown creasing his broad brow. The chamber echoed with the thunder of the waterfall behind him, a sound that somehow only exacerbated the long and unhappy silence.

Sokka had been seated beside the Chief on a slightly lower step, though he'd risen to his feet with concern as soon as he'd realized that Zuko had returned minus one Avatar. He and Chief Arnook had been casually shooting the breeze, reminiscing about old times with more than a small trace of sad nostalgia, when Zuko had entered and delivered the unfortunate news to them. Zuko's mother had also followed him inside, though she'd lingered back by the entrance, merely watching and listening.

"I mean," Zuko went on after the long pause, feeling that perhaps he ought to say something more, and anxious to break the silence. "I mean, I guess he just got cold feet. Maybe he felt sorry for her or something, and decided he couldn't do it..."

"Great." Sokka unleashed a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "She probably got to his head—you know, somehow said just the right thing that would crawl inside his brain and mess everything up. Like she does." He scowled fiercely. "You'd think she'd be less good at that these days, being crazy and all. But no."

"Nope. It's her gift—well, one of them," Zuko muttered sourly. "I was afraid of that, too. But I don't know if that was actually what happened or not. I don't know—he just said that he couldn't do it today. That's all he would tell me."

"Couldn't do it _today_," Sokka repeated, trying to be hopeful. "So, maybe another day?"

"Yeah... Maybe. I guess." Zuko hesitated, staring hard at the icy ground, wishing he could bring himself to agree with Sokka more wholeheartedly. During his entire walk back to the palace, he'd been thinking about Aang's choice of words, trying to be hopeful too. Aang hadn't said _never_—just not today. Perhaps Zuko had simply been too hasty, asking Aang to do it so soon. Perhaps Aang would be willing to do it on a different day.

But something had been making Zuko doubt that such a day would ever come. Something made him fear that Aang wasn't going to help him this time: Zuko was on his own, with no solution other than to kill his sister, or let her live long enough to escape and murder more innocent people. And the longer he took trying to decide what to do with Azula, the longer he was endangering the people of the North Pole, and wearing out his welcome here—when peace was still such a precarious thing, even under normal circumstances.

Zuko knew Katara and his mother were right—Aang was trying to deal with a lot of stuff right now, and maybe he should have waited a little longer before pushing this on him. But he felt like he couldn't wait—he'd already been waiting for days, doing nothing while Aang slept, and the Chief was expecting him to take care of the situation. The urgency had been pressing on him relentlessly; the anxiety of doing nothing was building. He could hardly sleep at night, dreading what sort of escape plans Azula might be concocting at this very moment, wondering how long it would take for her to implement them—fearing that the news that she'd escaped again would come at any time, though perhaps not soon enough to prevent her from slitting the throat of someone he loved and leaving them to waste away in some back alley. Who might it be this time?—His daughter? His mother? Uncle? Tenzin? Katara? Even if it wasn't someone close to him—even if Azula killed a complete stranger—the death of a single innocent Water Tribe civilian could have devastating results. _He_'d brought Azula to this place; any death would be on him. And he was already feeling unwelcome here as it was.

He didn't want to be angry at Aang, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated. Aang was the only one who could diffuse the situation, and could mediate between Zuko and the Chief. Aang was supposed to keep peace and prevent disaster. Aang was supposed to _help_ him, not only because he was the Avatar but because they were friends. But instead Aang had deserted him. It wasn't so much the fact that Aang hadn't taken Azula's bending away that made Zuko feel so aggravated—he would have understood if Aang had simply decided it wasn't right, or needed more time to think about it. No—Zuko was frustrated because Aang had told him he would do it, and then abandoned him without explanation, leaving him to face the Chief's ire on his own. Aang shouldn't have agreed to do it in the first place if he wasn't ready; at the very least he should have returned to the palace with Zuko to explain to everyone what happened, and take some of the responsibility for it himself, instead of simply disappearing.

Zuko sighed again, and fixed Chief Arnook with a sincere look. The Chief still hadn't spoken a word since Zuko's return, and it was beginning to make him extremely uneasy.

"I'm sorry about all this, Chief Arnook," he said (at least the third apology he'd uttered since he'd entered the room). "I know I promised it would be taken care of. Trust me, I want to get Azula out of the city as much as you do, but there's just nothing I can do right now. We can't risk moving her out of the prison while she still has her bending. She's just too dangerous."

"Hm," Chief Arnook murmured gravely.

He didn't say anything else, but the stern way he was scrutinizing Zuko was worse than ten scathing lectures—largely because Zuko got the general emotional effect, but not the actual meaning. He could tell the Chief was unhappy—but was he unhappy at _him _specifically, or at the entire situation? How unhappy _was _he, exactly? And what did he want Zuko to _do_ about it?

Sokka glanced back at the Chief for a moment, and then shifted his eyes once again towards Zuko, with his jaw set hard—as if he too was feeling a little impatient with Zuko, but didn't want to say anything. And somehow, Zuko saw everything more clearly in Sokka's expression, and knew what it was that was grating on them both: they wished he would stop being so insistent on sparing Azula's life. They wanted him to execute her and have it over with. Easy solution, no Avatar needed.

And once again, Zuko doubted himself. Maybe he _should _just kill her. Maybe he was making this much more difficult than it needed to be. Maybe it wasn't mercy, but cowardice, that was pushing him to find another way, when he ought to just grit his teeth and finish her.

If he did it—if he killed her himself—then it would really be over, and they could all rest easier.

But he still knew he couldn't do it.

Zuko clenched his teeth in frustration at himself. He wasn't strong enough; he was weak. He was a coward. He couldn't do what was necessary to keep everyone safe, and prevent conflict between himself and Chief Arnook. And Aang—Aang was supposed to be better and stronger than him—he was the _Avatar_—yet he'd failed to deal with the problem too. What was there left to do, then?

"Well," Sokka exhaled at last, breaking the tense silence. "Uncle's off sending a message out to the Fire Nation for a new ship to come bring you guys back. What are you gonna do about that, Zuko?"

Zuko sighed yet again, shaking his head wearily at the steps beneath where the Chief was sitting—too tired to lift his eyes a little higher and look at the Chief. "I don't know," he muttered. "I guess it would be better to hold off on the ship until we know how we're getting Azula out of here. No point in having some huge Fire Nation ship sitting around in the harbor doing nothing—"

"Plus a bunch more Fire Nation soldiers running around the city doing... whatever," Sokka added.

"—for who knows how long," Zuko finished, nodding. "So—I guess I should go find Uncle and tell him to hold off on sending that message—"

"The message has already been sent," Iroh announced, entering the chamber from a side door, and fixing Zuko with a curious frown. "I just arranged to have it delivered along with some shipments headed for the Fire Nation this afternoon. It sounds like I might have been a little too prompt, though... What exactly is the problem, Zuko?—Did you and Aang have some difficulties with Azula?"

Sokka chortled sarcastically. "Now what in the world would make you think _that_, Uncle? I mean, since when did any of us ever have problems with _Azula_, right?"

Iroh crossed his arms, glancing sternly between Sokka and Zuko. "I'll take that as a yes, then." Then he unleashed a weary sigh of his own. "That is very bad news. Though I can't say I'm all that surprised. He did not take her bending away, did he?"

"No," Zuko replied. "He went in to do it, and seemed okay, but then he didn't. He just ran off and wouldn't tell me what happened." He shook his head again. "He might still do it, eventually. But as of right now we can't risk shipping Azula back to the Fire Nation. And I don't really want a ship coming here until we need it. There's probably still time to intercept the message, right, Uncle? Or we could send another one telling them to wait—"

"No," Chief Arnook spoke up at last, and his voice boomed like thunder through the chamber.

Everyone looked at him in surprise. He rose to his feet, staring very hard at Zuko.

"Fire Lord Zuko," he said, "I'd hoped it wouldn't reach this point, but I really must put my foot down about this. Your sister simply _cannot _stay here in this city any longer. She's much too dangerous, as you've said yourself, and I don't feel that my people and I should have to carry the burden of keeping her confined. As for you and the rest of your family, thus far I've welcomed you all as honored guests—you are a man of peace and a friend of the Avatar, regardless of the deeds of your forefathers. I'd like to keep up diplomatic relations between our two realms as much as possible—"

"I'd like that too, Chief—" Zuko began.

"However," the Chief went on, his voice dropping to a yet graver tone. "I think it is much easier at this point in time for our people to keep up diplomatic relations from a _distance_, if you understand what I mean. We've been at peace for only eight years now. I know that may seem like a long time to you, since you are still young, but for those of us who lived almost our entire lives during wartime, it isn't very long at all. The war is still a clear memory in the minds of all but the youngest children. And now you have come here, uninvited and unanticipated, bringing a ship full of soldiers and quite probably the most dangerous Firebender in the world along with you..." He paused, sighing and closing his eyes tightly, as if he were bottling in a few words he knew would be unwise to say aloud. "I'm sorry, Fire Lord. I don't mean any disrespect. But you must see the situation from my point of view, and my peoples' point of view. So far you've been welcome, but I fear the longer you and your people are here—especially the soldiers you brought with you from the Fire Nation, who, as Sokka's just reminded us, will have quite a lot of free time to do as they please around the city... I fear the longer all of you stay, the harder it will be to keep the memories of the past from spoiling the peace of the present."

As Chief Arnook spoke, Zuko could see the buried distrust in his sharp stare: memories of black snow falling on the city, iron ships littering the horizon in all directions, a dying red moon in the sky, and the sacrifice of his only daughter. All these things, all these sorrows and horrors, still inevitably associated with Zuko and his people, no matter how much the Chief was fighting to forget them for the sake of courtesy and peace.

And although Zuko knew it was probably the worst response he could have had at the moment, he couldn't help seething with fury at the underlying hostility in Chief Arnook's speech. Perhaps it was all his frustration with Aang, on top of being unjustly shouted at by Katara, on top of his overall powerlessness in the situation, that caused him to lose his temper so quickly. But he'd spent the past eight years of his life struggling to undo the damage done by his forefathers, to prove to the world that the Fire Nation was more than just a nation of warmongering tyrants. And for the most part, he had been successful—largely thanks to Aang's help, which was glaringly absent at the moment. Aside from a few stubborn extremists who still thought of him as a traitor, Zuko was respected and loved by almost all his own people. And in most parts of the Earth Kingdom, except perhaps for some of the more rural areas, he was also widely respected and viewed as a great leader. Zuko was accustomed to being _known_, and _understood_, and associated with peace and rebirth and hope—not with war and death and fear. But up here, in the distant North—here the world seemed to move much slower. This place was its own isolated bubble of ice, its sheltered people still clinging to resentments that had begun to fade much faster elsewhere.

A long, angry tirade boiled inside him, eager to burst out: something about how much he'd done to bring the world together, and how difficult it had been, and that he wasn't his father, and he'd done his best—and most people in the world seemed to like him, so what was the Chief's problem?—and anyway, what had Chief Arnook ever done to help out after the war, huh?—and anyway, maybe if the Northern Water Tribe made more of an effort to actually be _part _of the world, then the two of them wouldn't even be having this problem in the first place...

But—though he wanted so badly to say all of it—Zuko knew he couldn't. That would be bad. Very, _very_ bad. So finally, after a brief battle with himself, he smothered his anger, swallowing it down deep, deep, deeper—but it left a nice ugly bruise on his pride as it went down.

"I understand, Chief," he said quietly, with as much humility as he could muster. "The last thing I want is for there to be any, uh... unnecessary tension between your people and mine because of this."

"Then you understand, Fire Lord Zuko, why I must insist that you let the message go through as it is. And I ask that when the ship arrives, you and your family, all your soldiers, and your sister, will depart on it. I'm sure your own country would like to have their leader back as soon as possible, anyway."

"But Chief Arnook," Zuko argued, struggling to hide his exasperation, "you've got to see the position I'm in. I can't just put Azula on a ship back to the Fire Nation and hope for the best. Even with her restrained, she's too dangerous. You know what happened to the last ship she was on. What am I supposed to do with her?"

"That's up to you to figure out," the Chief said. "She's your concern, not mine. But you must get her out of this city when the time comes. If you don't find a way to take her with you, then you'll simply have to dispatch her yourself. Or have your Earthbender friend do it—she certainly didn't seem too squeamish about causing Azula harm. Just don't wait around for the Avatar to solve your problems for you."

There was something contemptuous about that final statement—at least, it sounded contemptuous to Zuko, though he was already feeling defensive and humiliated, and slightly more inclined than usual to hear contempt in the Chief's voice. Zuko got the feeling Chief Arnook was accusing him of being weak, or lazy—relying on Aang to fix his problems for him, not because he actually _couldn't _do it himself, but because he simply didn't want to deal with it.

Still wrestling with his temper, Zuko bit his lip and felt the hot humiliation creeping up his neck and into his face. Casting his eyes away from the Chief, he briefly caught first his Uncle's expression, and then Sokka's. Uncle was staring hard at him, with a grave and uncertain frown—clearly displeased by Chief Arnook's attitude, but nevertheless begging Zuko silently to not lose his temper, to just accept the indignity graciously, and nurse his wounded pride later. Meanwhile Sokka was awkwardly shifting his eyes between Zuko and the Chief, rubbing the back of his head, with the expression of one caught in the middle of an uncomfortable family quarrel, in which he felt embarrassed and apologetic for both parties involved, and only hoped he wouldn't be forced to take sides. Zuko knew his mother was still watching, somewhere by the entrance behind him, but he didn't turn to see what her face looked like at the moment.

"Well, Chief Arnook," Zuko finally spoke again, in a soft and steady voice, "this is your city, and we are your guests, so of course we'll respect your wishes. I promise, my people and I won't cause you any trouble while we're here, and we _will _have Azula out of the city as soon as possible, one way or another. I'll just have to talk to Aang again and try to change his mind before the ship arrives. I'm sure once he—"

"You've already tried talking to Avatar Aang," Chief Arnook interrupted him, "and it didn't do much good. I think if we want him to help us, perhaps someone else ought to try to persuade him. And until the ship arrives, Fire Lord, you'd probably better just focus on minding your soldiers and planning your return home." The Chief stepped down a bit, placing his hand on Sokka's shoulder. "Sokka..."

Sokka glanced at the Chief, suppressing a small wince and shuffling his feet slightly. "Chief?"

"I think you may have a better chance of convincing Aang to take away Azula's Firebending," he said. "Try to talk to him, as soon as you can. Find out what's holding him back. I have a feeling he simply doesn't see the urgency of the situation clearly enough. But I'm sure if anyone can change his mind, it would be you."

"Uh," Sokka murmured, scratching his head. His eyes darted towards Zuko, who was merely staring at the two of them in stunned embarrassment. Sokka gave him another apologetic look, and then nodded at Chief Arnook. "Sure. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," said the Chief. "And keep in mind, Fire Lord—Aang's cooperation here isn't guaranteed. I think that's become clear enough to all of us now. I know it would be more convenient for you—for all of us, really—if he were to remove her bending. But we must plan ahead under the assumption that he might not do it at all. _You _especially shouldn't count on it."

Zuko clenched his teeth for a moment. Then, without a word, he simply gave the Chief a brisk nod.

"Does anyone know where Aang has gone?" Uncle asked.

"Katara went looking for him a few minutes ago," Zuko spoke again, glowering fiercely at the ground because he was too angry to look at anyone else in the room. "You might try looking for them back at the healing house, Sokka. That's where I'd guess he went."

Sokka nodded. "Right," he said. "Guess I'll go see if I can find him now, then."

Trotting down the steps, Sokka passed near Zuko on his way towards the entrance—and as he did so, he gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Sorry about all this," he whispered, too softly for anyone but Zuko to hear. "And good job, by the way."

Zuko glanced sidelong at him. "Good job? For what?"

"Not losing your temper." Sokka grinned a little. "It's not very often you actually impress me with your restraint. So—yeah. Good job, Hothead."

And with that, Sokka departed, leaving Zuko feeling slightly better than before. But only slightly.

"Oh, speaking of the healing house," Chief Arnook said to Zuko suddenly, as Sokka was on his way out of the palace. "I assume that all of your men have recovered from the, uh... exploding-ship incident by now, right?"

Zuko looked up at him. "Yes, I'd say so, for the most part. The healers did an excellent job."

"Well, they are the best in the city." The Chief scratched at his beard thoughtfully for a moment, and then waved at his assistant, who'd been standing patiently in a far corner of the chamber. "Eska!"

Eska trotted obediently forward. "Yes, Chief?"

"Are the living arrangements all finished?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "They were ready yesterday, actually. But of course the Avatar wasn't awake till this morning, so..."

"Right, right." Chief Arnook nodded at her. "Good. Well, Fire Lord Zuko, I've decided to move you and your entire company out of the healing house. Since none of you are in need of healing anymore, we ought to make room for people who _do _need healing. The healing house isn't an inn, after all."

Chief Arnook paused for a while, as if he expected Zuko to reply. Zuko cleared his throat a little awkwardly, not really sure what to say. At last he simply stammered, "Uh, yeah. Makes sense."

"So," the Chief went on, "we've made room in some small apartments nearby, adjacent to the palace. They're not particularly spacious or fancy, but I think they should be an improvement over the healing house. How many rooms are there, Eska?"

"Four, Chief," she said. "Big enough for three or four people each, if it came to it."

"Good," the Chief nodded at her again, and his eyes darted back to Zuko. "That should be more than enough, don't you think?"

"But—" Zuko furrowed his brow, "what about my soldiers?"

"Oh, well, for them," he shrugged, "I've ordered some barracks out near the wall cleared out to accommodate them. They haven't been used much since the war ended, so they should do nicely."

"The wall?" Zuko repeated, blinking. "You mean, _the _wall? The big wall? All the way out at the edge of the city?"

"That's the one."

Zuko hesitated, frowning a bit. "Uh... Chief," he finally said, "I don't mean to cause trouble, but—it's gonna be a little hard for me to keep track of my soldiers if they're living all the way out there, while I'm staying up here near the palace—"

Chief Arnook gave him another of those distrustful looks. "Well... if you don't think they can control themselves without supervision, then perhaps it would be best for you to stay out at the wall with them, Fire Lord."

Zuko just stared at him.

"It won't be for very long, after all. Just until your ship arrives."

It took all of Zuko's restraint to not lose his temper. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so disrespected—exiled to the wall with his soldiers, while the others were all given comfortable apartments near the palace! Sure, Chief Arnook made a pretense of offering Zuko lodging with everyone else—but Zuko knew full well that if the slightest thing went wrong, if the smallest conflict arose between his soldiers and the Water Tribe people, then Zuko would be blamed for it. And with Ashiro lost, the usual order in the ranks had been disrupted; there wasn't one among them that Zuko knew as well as he'd known Ashiro, no one he could fully trust to keep the rest in line. His only alternative was to stay out in the barracks with them, to keep an eye on them.

The Chief _had_ to know what he was doing—he had to know that this choice he was giving Zuko was not a real choice at all.

But again, Zuko swallowed his rage, with greater difficulty this time, and finally muttered through clenched teeth, "Of course. That would probably be best."

"I'll send Eska and a few of my Waterbenders out later today to see that everyone is settled comfortably."

"Sure. Thank you, Chief." And abruptly, Zuko turned and walked out of the palace—afraid that if he stayed one second longer, he was going to say something he'd regret.

* * *

><p>Aang was still running, still putting distance between himself and the healing house without any clear destination, when another bolt of pain cracked through his skull, piercing him right between the eyes, and it was so unbearable that he halted in the middle of a bridge, unable to take another step. He reeled against the side of the bridge, leaning heavily on the balustrade and holding his head, while a small moan burst out of his chest. For a second he wondered if anyone had ever died from a migraine before. Just breathing, he covered his eyes with his hands to block out the light—afraid to open them again, for fear that his sight would just be completely gone, swallowed up in the swarming spots.<p>

"Hey?" he felt a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, mister?"

Mustering the courage to open his eyes again, Aang squinted through the inky spots to look at the speaker. It was a teenage Water Tribe girl, staring at him with concern in her blue eyes. Behind her was a teenage boy, gawking at him. And behind them more people were beginning to stop in the middle of the bridge, staring curiously, wondering what the fuss was about—wondering if they were really seeing the person they thought they were seeing.

"No, I'm—I'm fine," Aang said, his voice cracking a bit. He pushed himself hastily upright, hoping to hurry on his way before he caused a real scene.

"Holy cow, it's you!" said the boy, his eyes growing wider with excitement. "You're the Avatar!"

As soon as the words had been released into the air, more people began to gather around on all sides, murmuring and pushing forward to get a look at Aang—cutting off his easy escape route.

"Did you need help?" the girl asked uncertainly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, you look kinda sick," remarked the boy.

"No, no—I'm fine, really," Aang insisted, more loudly this time, trying his hardest to look composed and collected. "No worries. Nothing to see here."

But the people were pressing in, staring at him—dozens of eyes, gaping at him, muttering and rustling and asking jumbled questions that seemed to come from everywhere, all at once. What's going on? Did you see what happened? _Who _is it—the Avatar? Are you sure? Is it actually him? I heard there was an impostor running around—No, it's really him! What's he doing here? I thought he died or something?—Well, obviously not! Of course he didn't! Didn't you see the moon a few nights ago? Didn't you hear the story?—Move over, I want to see! Is everything okay? Does he need help? Is something wrong with him? Is he okay? Is he okay?

The crowd gathering around really wasn't inordinately large, nor were they pressing any closer than normal. Aang knew this, but nevertheless his face began to blaze violently, partly from embarrassment and partly from suffocation, and his heart began to shriek once again with sharp panic, clawing at his throat, twisting his stomach into knots. His vision seemed to pulse with the pounding rhythm of the migraine, while the world blurred and spun before his eyes. He could feel his hands quaking uncontrollably; he shivered; he thought he was going to be sick. And everyone was staring at him, pressing in, flinging words at each other and at him. He leaned back against the balustrade as far as he could, closing his eyes, but he couldn't shut out all the voices—he couldn't shake the smothering feeling of being looked at, like a carnival exhibit. He couldn't breathe; his lungs were being crushed; he could feel a frantic scream building momentum in his bowels, preparing to erupt. He had to get away, _now_. He needed air—he needed space—he needed to escape all those gawking eyes, to go somewhere where he wouldn't be seen.

The surge of panic, the terror of being trapped, overtook Aang so completely that, without even saying another word to the young girl and boy who'd stopped to check on him—without even excusing himself somehow, or attempting to depart with dignity, or even trying to pretend that he wasn't irrationally frantic to escape—Aang summoned a quick gust of air that blew everyone back a few steps, giving him some space. And in the midst of all the peoples' startled gasps and exclamations, Aang simply sprang up onto the balustrade and took off running along the railing, launching himself high into the air when he reached the end of the bridge; he landed nimbly on the roof of a nearby building and resumed his hasty sprint without the slightest hesitation, swiftly leaving behind the astonished people on the bridge. The vague notion that he must have looked completely crazy to all of them crossed his mind, but he was too panic-stricken and confused to care.

_Yes, run, run, keep running—that's what you do, isn't it?_

Aang ran, kept running, unable to stop. He ran across the roof of that building, from one edge to the other, and onto the roof of the next building, and then the one after that, and the one after that. Running and running and running across rooftops until he was far from where he'd started, and even farther from the prison and the palace and the healing house. Eventually he arrived at an open city square and sprang back down to the street level, landing lightly on a cushion of air that whipped up the snow. A few more pedestrians made loud noises of surprise at his sudden appearance, but Aang just kept going—quickly, quickly—raising a bridge of ice out of a canal and slipping across it into a winding side street—only desperate for a hidden place of solitude to rest in.

At last he found one: a small alleyway between two buildings, with a narrow canal running through it—away from the main streets and away from the people. He slipped quickly into the alley, finally slowing down to a staggering halt about halfway down, all the frantic energy from his panic draining out of him very abruptly. He shivered violently, breathing hard, and collapsed against one of the buildings, his feet dangling in the frigid water of the canal. And he breathed and breathed and breathed, trying to make his heart beat normally again, draping his arm over his eyes to shut away the migraine, which now began to throb yet more ferociously, aggravated by all the excitement.

What was wrong with him?

He didn't know. He didn't know. But even here, hidden away, he felt he wasn't far enough away for comfort.

If only he had his glider. He supposed it must have been lost years ago, back when he was first attacked by Koh. If he only had it now, he could fly somewhere—somewhere farther away, even more hidden and alone than here—somewhere far outside the city, away from the people, away from Azula, away from Katara and Zuko, away from his failure and his fears, away from everything.

He wished Appa was here. Appa could take him even farther than his glider could. Appa could fly him to the other side of the world. At that moment, Aang couldn't think of anything he wanted more than that.

But Appa was at the healing house. Appa was with Katara. That wasn't an option right now.

He still needed healing, though—his head was causing him so much pain that he was having trouble breathing. He knew he needed healing, but he couldn't ask for it from Katara. And yet, the monstrous migraine, the invasive cold, the blindness, the terror—he couldn't stand it a second longer. He was going to shatter into a million pieces if he didn't do something. He'd have to make do without Katara; he'd have to kill the pain on his own, somehow.

Perhaps meditation would help—but he'd tried that earlier, and it hadn't worked. He hadn't even been _able _to meditate. The headache had only grown sharper, punishing him for his efforts. It may have only been a coincidence, not a punishment, but nevertheless he felt no desire to try meditating again. The headache was already pushing him to the edge of his pain tolerance; he wasn't sure he could handle any more.

Suddenly, a slightly strange notion flashed through his mind, and at once he resolved to do it. He didn't know if it would actually get rid of his afflictions—in fact, he hardly cared. He was merely frantic to escape from himself, just for a second. Even a fraction of a second would be enough.

Aang did his best to push himself upright, though his limbs were stiff and heavy with cold, and the alley began to spin before his blotchy eyes. But he blinked fiercely, breathing, and finally just closed his eyes.

He'd go into the Avatar state. Just for a second—even less than a second, that was all. That was all he needed. Just a half-second to escape, and maybe that would help him renew his grip on himself. Just a quarter-second, even, to flush out the sickness, flood his body with energy and smother that beast in his head.

That would do it. Aang pressed his eyes shut tighter.

Avatar state.

Avatar state. Now.

Go.

Now.

Come on.

_Now_.

...

... No.

... _Nothing._

Aang opened his eyes, staring hard at his own hands, which were trembling violently now.

He couldn't go into the Avatar state.

_He couldn't go into the Avatar state?_

His heart began to scream with panic again. He couldn't...? He couldn't...! But—? No—no no no, he _had _to be able to. He _had _to. Why would he not be able to? There was no reason—it didn't make any sense—

He tried again, grinding his teeth with the effort, shaking head to toe with terror. But again, nothing happened.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he do it?

He tried again. He _had _to do it. He _had _to. He was in control. It should be effortless—

He tried and tried and tried, with all his might. Nothing. Kept trying, frantically, trying again, struggling to breathe, trying again—what was wrong with him?

Then, all at once, something gave way.

In an instant, he felt himself overcome with the rush of spiritual energy. It came so fast, so without warning, that his mind was nearly inundated with the sudden flood of power, the focused intensity of all his past lives crashing over him at once, chaotic and uncontrolled, like a powerful river bursting through a dam. For a second or two, he was so overwhelmed that he couldn't regain control—he couldn't find where he was—and he almost slipped away entirely, losing himself in the surge of power the way he used to when he was young, back before he'd mastered it, when the power controlled him instead of the other way around.

But after a brief struggle, he managed to get a grip and pull himself back, bringing the flood of energy under control again. He fell forward heavily onto his hands and knees, breathing hard, and realized that he'd been hovering slightly off the ground. Gusts of wind were settling around him as he watched the bright white glow fade out of the arrows in his hands. For a moment his eyesight was rather blurry, but when it cleared he saw that the icy ground around him had cracked and ruptured, and the water in the narrow canal was tossing and churning savagely, as if a small hurricane had just passed by.

Then without warning, his stomach lurched violently—and a second later he became reacquainted with his breakfast. Most of it went into the water, and he watched it go floating down the canal away from him.

For a few seconds afterward, his stomach continued to heave reflexively, even though it had nothing left to eject, and all he could do was cough and gag and breathe slowly, slowly, slowly. At last, thoroughly drained, he fell over onto his back and simply lay alongside the edge of the canal, staring straight up at the pale blue sky, shivering and breathing and trying once more to calm his frenzied heart.

What was _that _about?!

First he hadn't been able to enter the Avatar state—as if his chakras had somehow become blocked again—then he'd plunged into it so abruptly that he'd nearly lost control.

That... was definitely not normal.

Aang breathed, breathed, beginning to feel a little better. Well, at least he'd managed to do it eventually, and he _hadn't _lost control completely. He was fine now. And just as he'd been hoping, his headache had momentarily subsided, and his eyesight had cleared—though the chill still lingered in his veins, but that didn't matter much to him at the moment. His only goal had been to escape the intolerable pain, and he'd managed to make it stop. He was fine now. He was fine.

Maybe that was all there was. Maybe that was the last of it. Maybe all he'd needed was a quick burst of the Avatar state—to clear out his chakras, flood his body with energy for a moment, flush out the monster. Maybe, he thought again, it had just been some strange sickness left over from his long time in the Spirit World, or from his brush with death, and now it was fixed. Now he'd be back to normal.

He was fine. He'd fixed himself. He hadn't even needed Katara's healing at all.

He was fine.

With his headache finally subdued, something like actual calmness began to settle over him—calmness, but not quite peace. More like the dead numbness that comes after an adrenaline rush, or the cold silence after the passing of a tornado.

He ought to get up. He ought to go back to the palace, at least. Zuko would have gone back there—Aang was certain he must already be there, no doubt trying his best to explain the situation to everyone. That was probably why Katara had flown back to the healing house—because Zuko had returned to the palace without him.

His heart suddenly ached with guilt. After the way she'd been acting all morning—the way she'd overreacted earlier when he merely went around the corner without telling her—she must have been nearly frantic when Zuko returned to the palace alone. How could he do that to her? He'd already unwittingly given her one panic attack earlier this morning, and she'd made a point of telling him—only a couple of hours ago—that she was having a hard time dealing with it when he just ran off without an explanation. And now that's _precisely _what he'd done, again. Run away, without telling anyone where he'd gone or why.

And then there was Zuko. How would Zuko explain to everyone what had happened? Aang had just deserted him, leaving him to take care of that shameful task alone—the task of facing everyone, and having to hear them all ask "But why?"—and he hadn't even given Zuko any good answer, other than "not today."

And speaking of the people he'd already let down today, what about Tenzin?—Aang had promised to take him out to the wall, and watch him do the little Airbending he knew. And he hadn't even seen his brand-new son since breakfast... Would Tenzin understand?—Or had Aang already messed up horribly as a father, on his very first day? And what would Tenzin think when, on top of being abandoned and ignored all day, he learned that his father, the one he'd always looked up to as a hero, was a failure and a coward—too weak to deal with Azula—too weak to protect him.

Perhaps Tenzin would conclude that he preferred Zuko as a father. Zuko had always been there, after all. And Zuko actually _knew _something about being a father. Aang was just a novelty that would soon get old.

His eyes stung bitterly once again, though he refused to shed any more tears. His hand drifted back to his pocket, to the betrothal necklace—and he began to twiddle and twist it distractedly between his fingers, breathing, thinking, thinking very hard about it.

He thought about the necklace. He thought about Zuko, and that strange uncomfortable conversation they'd had before arriving at Azula's cell.

Aang still wasn't sure how to feel about that whole thing. He couldn't say he was very surprised, though honestly he would have preferred not to know—and it was still almost too strange to wrap his mind around the idea that both and he Zuko loved Katara at the same time, even if Zuko was trying to stop. With everything else that had been on Aang's mind all day, he'd somewhat blocked it out, unable to properly digest it. And he thought vaguely that he should be angry at Zuko—that most normal people would be angry at Zuko, if they were him—but he was too confused, too distracted, too dumbfounded to summon any real anger at the moment. He didn't want to be angry at Zuko anyway; he was too tired, and he hated being angry.

What should he be angry _for_, anyway?

Because Zuko had fallen in love with Katara while he was gone?

Well—Aang swallowed hard, suppressing a bubble of sickly discomfort, determined to rationalize his emotions away—well, but it was an accident. You can't control that sort of thing. Right? You just can't. And Zuko was sorry, and he was trying to fix the problem honestly and honorably. He wasn't trying to fight with Aang or hide anything from him—he'd told the truth, without wasting any time at all. And even though Aang still would have rather remained blissfully ignorant, he knew Zuko was trying to do the right thing. What else could Aang expect him to do?

_... Yes, you're right. I suppose it _is _too much to expect your friend__s not to move in on your girlfriend the second you're out of the picture, isn't it?_

A little spark of resentment tried crackling to life in his chest at that thought—but Aang hastily did his best to smother it, too aware of how unfair it was, and fiercely determined that he wasn't going to get angry. He didn't want to be angry at Zuko, or jealous. He wanted to just let it go, and never think of it again—after blissful ignorance, that was the second best option. The last thing he wanted was to lose his friendship with Zuko over this. And anyway, he and Katara certainly had enough problems to deal with just between the two of them without throwing Zuko into the mix.

No. Aang was a grown up now, after all—well, more so than he'd been been before. He was twenty-one, he was a father, he had a beard now. He was going to do the mature thing and let it go. What good would it do to get angry about it? It had happened—there was no changing that—nothing to do about it except let it go. Yes, maybe—maybe Zuko should have kept his distance, or done more to prevent things from reaching this point... But then, really, why would he? Aang _had _been gone a long time. For all Aang knew, Zuko had kept his distance from Katara for months, even years, after he'd disappeared. And by then it had been such a long time, Zuko probably believed Aang was never coming back. Who _wouldn't _think so, after five years?

_Yes. Five years _is _a long time, isn't it? A long, long time..._

Something toxic and corrosive began to boil deep inside him suddenly, though he was still clinging desperately to his logical calmness. As long as the idea of Zuko and Katara living together for five years remained an abstract concept in his mind, he could handle it—he could rationalize it, and thus keep any anger or jealousy at bay. But now his mind began all at once to plunge into the details, the tangible implications—everything he wanted so hard _not _to think about, yet couldn't help thinking about...

Five years together. Five years, in the same city, in the same palace, every day...

Just how _close_ had they been, exactly?

The thought dropped into his stomach like a rock. But—no, no—surely they wouldn't have... It was _Katara _and _Zuko_. It was all wrong—all wrong. They must have known it was wrong. They must have sensed the wrongness of it—they _must _have. The very idea of it twisted Aang's heart inside out so violently, he couldn't imagine how they _wouldn't _know it was wrong, the way he knew it.

At least _Katara _must have known. Right? She must have. She wouldn't... she wouldn't...

_Oh, come on. Don't be _naïve now. Think about it. Think about __five years_. How many days is that? How many nights?_

_You don't think Katara ever itched for someone to pass the cold nights with, while she was waiting around for you?_

_You don't think she ever just got _tired_ of waiting?_

_Zuko was already playing father to your little Tenzin, since you weren't around. It almost seems natural, doesn't it? Almost inevitable—that she would look to him for the things you weren't around to give her._

He began to feel nauseous again immediately, his stomach tightening up, threatening to start another round of reflexive heaving. He couldn't stand to think about it anymore—but he couldn't stop thinking about it, now that he'd allowed himself to start—and he felt as if his heart were trying to devour itself, even as he did his best to banish all those horrible sickening thoughts from his mind. The betrayal, the loss, the inadequacy, the humiliation, the aloneness—all of them, all at once, ambushed him, working together to tear him limb from limb.

No—he refused—he wasn't going to let those feelings overwhelm him. He was stronger than that. He was an adult—and he wasn't _going _to be angry or jealous. Whatever had happened between Zuko and Katara didn't matter anyway, he told himself fiercely, hanging onto his calm reasoning with all his might, like a castaway clinging to a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea. It just didn't matter. No one could undo it now, so there was no point in letting it upset him. It was in the past now, anyway. It was over.

It was over.

In fact—perhaps it had never been much of anything in the first place. Perhaps it hadn't been as serious as Aang was dreading. Zuko _had_ admitted that he wasn't entirely sure what it was, or who he'd been to Katara. Yes—that was what he'd said—he didn't even know if Katara reciprocated his feelings at all.

Somehow, that made a lot more sense to Aang: that whatever was between Zuko and Katara was totally one-sided. It was completely believable that Zuko would develop feelings for Katara—after all, she _was _Katara. But that it went both ways?... Well, Katara certainly hadn't shown much attachment to Zuko all morning—not anymore than she ever had before. As far as Aang could tell, she might not even realize that Zuko had any feelings for her at all. She'd been clinging to Aang all morning, even in front of Zuko; surely if Katara knew about Zuko's feelings, she wouldn't flaunt her relationship with Aang so openly in front of him. Right? And it definitely wouldn't be the first time she was oblivious to someone's affections for her...

A strange, choking kind of chuckle burst out of him at that thought, a little bitter and also a little too amused. Though it did make him feel sorry for Zuko, he couldn't help feeling some selfish comfort in the idea.

_But she moved to the Fire Nation for him._

_She wouldn't leave the South Pole for your sake. Remember? She told you she couldn't up and leave her family and her people, to go whizzing around the world with you forever._

_Didn't have much trouble leaving for Zuko, though, did she?_

Aang swallowed hard, trying to suppress the resentful lump in his throat, shaking his head in protest to the cruel Azula-ish voice that rang in his head. No, that was wrong. This was different... somehow. Zuko had needed Katara's help. She was always going out of her way to help people. It was different.

_Now you're just in denial._

_This is the girl who broke your heart, remember? Trampled you into the dust without warning, for no reason other than that you wanted to marry her._

_She made you think she loved you, and then tossed you away in the blink of an eye. Didn't even look back when she ran away from you. Didn't even say good-bye when you left._

_And now you're trying to convince yourself that she couldn't have any feelings for Zuko—that she's _oblivious_ to Zuko—because she's just so besotted with you?_

_You're either more _naïve than a newborn turtle-duck, or you're too much of a coward to face the_ truth._

Aang clenched his jaw stubbornly, squeezing the life out of that wretched necklace in his pocket. Maybe he _was _naïve. But he didn't care—it was easier for him to believe that Katara didn't have any feelings for Zuko, and even easier for him to believe that she didn't know about Zuko's feelings at all. Aang decided obstinately that he was going to believe it, regardless of how naïve it might be, because he simply couldn't handle the alternative at the moment.

But he still couldn't quite convince himself of the part about Katara's undying loyalty. If he'd been in her place, he thought, he would have waited _fifty _years, without ever even considering the possibility of another relationship. But Katara wasn't like him. Yes, she was caring, and selfless, and good. But she didn't need him the way he needed her. And now he was only a novelty to her too—that was all. She thought she wanted to marry him now—she thought it was love she was feeling, but it wasn't. Just excitement. Just infatuation. He was just a nostalgic old toy that she'd momentarily forgotten why she ever stopped playing with. That sort of revived affection never lasted long—it was far too shallow to sustain itself: a hot flame that would burn itself out just as quickly as it had begun.

The betrothal necklace was embedding itself into his palm, thanks to how fiercely he was clutching it. More fiery tears sprang suddenly into his eyes, despite his determination not to cry anymore, and for a second he nearly gave into a bitter urge to simply hurl the necklace into the canal at his feet—let it sink to the bottom and be lost forever, and good riddance. He'd been a fool to even make the thing in the first place. He should have known better.

He didn't throw it away, though. He almost did. But he didn't. He just kept holding it, thinking about how much it had hurt him, but unable to let it go even still.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled the necklace out of his pocket, out into the sunlight, and studied it somberly. Such a simple, light little thing—yet so heavy with meaning, so stained with emotions. He'd never expected that it would return to him once he gave it away; but now here it was in his pocket, come back again just like Sokka's boomerang. The comparison churned up another sour, miserable chortle in his chest, but he didn't have the strength to release it, so it just stayed there inside him, making his heart feel even more ill than before. The necklace no longer felt as sharp and clean as it had when it was new; he could feel the handful of years it carried, even though it seemed only a few weeks ago that he'd carved it. He still recalled how he'd felt when he made the thing, full of hopeful excitement... and his bitter anger burned again, thinking of how swiftly and cruelly and unfairly that innocent hopeful excitement had been squashed.

All his thoughts were like knives in his heart, and he couldn't help musing that the necklace somehow summed up everything that was wrong with the way things were now. It was a necklace that was only meant to be given away _once_—yet he'd given it, and now it had returned to him, along with the suggestion that he try giving it again. As if maybe it would stick this time.

And yes, he thought, maybe it would. Maybe she wanted to marry him—or she thought she did. But it wasn't right anymore... Maybe, like Zuko had said, she'd be happy to receive it now. But he didn't think he had the strength or courage to try giving it to her a second time.

He was just tired. So, so tired.

After a while, though, he once again told himself that he ought to get up. He'd been lying in this alley for too long already, and he couldn't hide here forever. He was going to have to face them all eventually—he was going to have to face Katara again, sooner or later, and she was going to scold him for running off without telling anyone where he was going, and she was possibly going to have a small breakdown and cling to him even more closely now, never letting him leave her side again, because that was the only way she could be sure that he wouldn't... what?—get his face stolen again, or something. Aang didn't know, but he felt exhausted already just at the thought of facing her. He knew if he waited any longer, though, it was only going to be worse. She might soon have all the Chief's Waterbenders scouring the city for him, if he lay around here much longer.

He didn't get up, though. He knew he needed to, but he didn't. He just stayed there, sprawled on the ground, staring up at the sky, thinking about Katara, fingering that accursed necklace in his hand. He could almost feel the will to move physically trickling out of him.

And suddenly, it occurred to him—it wasn't really Katara herself that he was dreading. Yes, everything about her frightened him at the moment—he didn't trust her not to rip his heart out a second time, and he didn't know how to handle her strange overprotectiveness or her blind infatuation—but that wasn't what sucked all the motivation to ever move again from his muscles...

No—it was the prospect of having to act _normal _for her. The pressure of pretending to be okay when he wasn't.

Because he wasn't okay. He _really _wasn't.

He could lie here telling himself that he was fine all day long, but he knew he wasn't really. Yes, he'd gotten his headache under control now, and the spots in his eyes were gone—but he still wasn't okay, no matter how much he wanted to be. No matter how much _she _wanted him to be.

He didn't know who he was right now. He didn't know why he'd failed at the prison, why he'd felt so horribly certain that Azula was stronger than he was, why he'd succumbed to his rage. He didn't know what the past five years had been like. He didn't know what Katara had been like for the past five years. He didn't know how he fit into this strange new version of his life, where he had a son he didn't know, where Zuko loved Katara but was trying not to, where Katara was an unfamiliar and frightening enigma to him. He didn't know who Katara thought he was right now, what she'd been imagining he was like for the past five years, or what she wanted him to be now. He didn't know how he was supposed to be what she wanted him to be, or if it was even _possible_. He wasn't sure if _she _actually even knew what she wanted now. He didn't know what was going to happen when he failed to live up to whatever her impossible expectations were, or how long it would take her to become disappointed and disillusioned, to get tired of him and discard him all over again—and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to recover when it finally happened.

He'd been trying so hard to be okay, because he was the Avatar and he was a father now and he'd been gone for five years and he was growing a beard—he wasn't sixteen anymore, even if he still felt like he was—he had responsibilities, and he had to be good enough—he _had _to be okay. He had to be.

But he wasn't. He was unsure about too many things. He was still hurting, and still grieving the loss of his old familiar life, still grieving the years that had been stolen from him.

He was just exhausted. Exhausted from trying to be okay. Exhausted from having to act as if he wasn't utterly petrified by everything Katara did or didn't do. Exhausted from trying not to flinch at all her caresses, from trying to ignore his raw wounds. Exhausted from pretending that he had her all figured out, when really he couldn't understand her at all.

But—why _was _he pretending? Why didn't he just tell her that he wasn't okay?

... Because she wanted him to be okay. That was why. Because that was the one thing he knew for sure about her right now. She wanted desperately for everything to be normal again between them—and he wanted desperately to give her what she wanted. But he couldn't. Not anymore. He was going to lose his mind if he kept this up any longer. He couldn't go back to normal. He couldn't be like her, acting as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them at all—as if somehow this whole five-years-apart thing rendered her initial rejection of him irrelevant. She hadn't said a word about their last argument, or even acknowledged that it had happened, since he'd been back. Was she simply ignoring it in the hope that he'd forget about it? Or had she willfully forgotten about it herself? Honestly, he couldn't tell. But the bitter knife in his heart buried itself a little deeper, to think that something that meant so much to him, something that had hurt him so badly, would be simply brushed off and forgotten, like it was no big deal to her._  
><em>

It was all wrong now. Now he was afraid and confused and hurting. It wasn't right anymore. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He had to tell Katara. He had to tell her that he wasn't okay. He had to tell her that things weren't normal right now—and they might never be again—and he couldn't be what she wanted. He just couldn't. If anything else, he needed some time alone to figure out who _he _was, before he started worrying about who _she _wanted him to be.

"Aang!"

The sound of her voice calling his name came rippling through the air, so faintly that for a second he thought he'd imagined it. But then it came again, louder and nearer this time—

"_Aang!_"

Followed by:

"Daddy!"

He glanced up, and saw the shape of Appa passing overhead. He could only see the bison's underside—but of course he knew who his riders were.

They were looking for him.

Appa passed very close by—but apparently not close enough for either of his passengers to spot Aang in the little alley below, for they only kept going, unaware of how near they'd been.

He should get up. They were looking for him.

He had to go—he had to go find them. He had to go tell Katara all those things—everything about the way he really felt now.

He had to get up, now, and leave this alley so that they'd see him.

He heard them circling back around. He told himself to get up.

And a moment later, Aang was fast asleep on the ground, utterly exhausted, still holding the betrothal necklace, still believing that he was just about to get up. And Katara and Tenzin passed by once again on Appa's back, never guessing that the person they were searching for was sleeping right below them.

* * *

><p>... <em>Man, 23000+ words. That's probably enough for one chapter.<br>_

_You know, I think I've said this before, but it's terribly difficult to keep track of so many characters, who are all doing their own things. Again, I respect the writers of this show more and more every day for doing it so well! _^_^


	49. I AM LITERALLY THE WORST

...

...

...

IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR, Y'ALL.

:-0

**A**

**WHOLE**

**FREAKING**

**YEAR.**

...

I REALLY DIDN'T MEAN FOR THAT TO HAPPEN.

...

AHEM.

SO.

THIS IS NOT THE NEXT PART OF THE STORY.

IT'S JUST MY APOLOGY.

SEE, I'VE BEEN HIDING...

I'VE BEEN HIDING FROM A LOT OF THINGS THIS PAST YEAR.

I NEEDED TO HIDE FOR A LITTLE WHILE, BUT I ENDED UP HIDING FOR LONGER THAN I MEANT TO.

SO I'M SORRY. LIFE HAS BEEN A MESS.

THIS PAST YEAR HAS BEEN PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT YEARS OF MY LIFE, FOR A BUNCH OF DIFFERENT REASONS I WON'T GET INTO HERE...

SUFFICE IT TO SAY, I WAS BURNT OUT AND I LOST MY PASSION FOR MANY THINGS, INCLUDING THIS STORY.

BUT I'M PICKING MYSELF UP AGAIN.

(slo-o-o-o-o-o-w-w-w-w-ly)

I WANTED TO HAVE A NEW CHAPTER TO POST HERE TODAY, BUT I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME.

SO I DECIDED TO WRITE THIS MESSAGE INSTEAD, AS SOMETHING TO SIT HERE UNTIL THE NEXT CHAPTER IS READY...

BECAUSE I REALLY WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW...

I'M NOT DEAD YET,

**AND THE STORY IS NOT OVER.**

I REPEAT:

**_THE STORY IS NOT OVER_**_._

I PROMISED I WOULD FINISH IT,

NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TOOK...

_AND I WILL_.

:-)

JUST NOT TODAY.

BUT SOON.

(_hopefully_)

IN THE MEANTIME,

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS AND MESSAGES...

THEY'VE MEANT MORE TO ME THAN YOU KNOW.

YOU GUYS ARE ALL THE BEST EVER.

:')

TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE STUCK WITH THE STORY AND WAITED PATIENTLY FOR UPDATES,

I'M SORRY AGAIN FOR BEING GONE SO LONG.

I PROMISE, AN ACTUAL UPDATE WILL BE COMING JUST AS SOON AS I GET A BREAK FROM WORK!

* * *

><p>Mai: "Hey, I'm still here, too. You left me here alone. <em>Again<em>. So where's my apology?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Oh geez, Mai! What have you been doing for the past year?"<br>Mai: "Hm, mostly nothing. Watching a lot of Netflix. Playing Bejeweled. Throwing knives at stuff... You realize you've been gone for so long that _Legend of Korra _is almost over now, right?"  
>Rain&amp;Roses: *<em>sigh<em>* "Yeah, I know..."  
>Mai: "Almost a whole two seasons have gone by since you last updated this story."<br>Rain&Roses: "Yes, yes, I am aware..."  
>Mai: "Also, 'The Rift' series came out in the comics. In fact, pretty sure the last issue is gonna be published this month."<br>Rain&Roses: "I know! I've been reading it! It's been really good so far."  
>Mai: "Last time you updated, you were still talking about 'The Search.' I mean, wow<em>. <em>Just... _wow_."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Argh! I know, <em>I know<em>, I'm just the worst! I already said it in the title of this update! What more do you want from me?" :-(  
>Mai: "Hm... Let me think about that..."<br>Rain&Roses: "Oh boy..."  
>Mai: "How about a whole truckload of fruit tarts? And also a brand new set of throwing-knives. And toss in a puppy too, while you're at it."<br>Rain&Roses: "Really? You like puppies?"  
>Mai: -_- "... ... ... <em>Everyone likes puppies<em>."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "Well, can't argue with that..."<br>Mai: "So, yeah. You go get me my well-deserved presents, to thank me for hanging out in your unbearably tedious Author's Notes for so long. And I'll just wait here till you decide to _actually _update. As usual."  
>Rain&amp;Roses: "It won't be that long this time! I promise!" :)<br>Mai: "Sure. That's what you always say." -_-


End file.
